A Little Night Music
by Lady Sandman3345
Summary: The year: 1923.The place: Paris,the city of Light.Eloise,youngest daughter of two former famous artists,has just sadly lost her mother.In the solitude of an attic,she will rediscover the story of her parents;a unknown story around the Garnier Opera House.
1. Chapter 1 Requiem

"_**Chapter One: Requiem"**_

TIMELINE: Paris 31st of January 1923. Private west wing at Le Mirage.8:20 p.m.

The room was full of people. All waiting, all silent. They were all there; they had come to say goodbye. I glanced around the room, as I sat on one side to the bed, where Mamma laid. The doctor had said she could not see us, that there was nothing more to be done. But I knew Mamma was watching us all. Smiling, as I liked to see her.

I grabbed her hand and it was cold.

"_Mum?",_ I said in a whisper, _"Mummy….?"_

Marshall took her pulse in her throat and nodded sadly. It all had ended, at last. I barely heard Matilda crying, and though I had no nerve to look at Val, I could feel her tears falling in her eyes as if they were mine.

But I did not cry.

I had promised her.

I had not cried when Pappa died either.

I wasn´t in Paris when it happened and I still blame myself, though uncle Mike had told me, the soft way he used to explain things. 'Have faith, child. Faith is all we have to understand the unexplicable…', he had hugged me as I sobbed, in the solitude of the Writer´s Corner. But Pappa was gone, and I knew I would miss him. Yet, not as much as Mamma would.

Just two months ago. He had gone to bed one night and never woke up again. Mamma had stayed silent, piercing the doctor with her blue glassy eyes, for endless instants, until she muttered… 'Did he suffer?' 'No Madame,' was the man´s answer, ' he wasn´t conscious. His has been a sweet passing.' Nothing more Mamma said after that, though life at Le Mirage still went on, unstoppable. We all agreed to stay with her and take care, but we all knew, even without speaking, Mamma´s light was fading. 'I could not live without your pere, cherie', she had declared many times, still blushing a bit, the lovely way she used to. Mamma loved all those memories of old times, her face transformed everytime she thought or spoke about them, and especially if Pappa was part of them. It was amazing, for all their children, how much they still admired each other, after years, and how strong the love they shared had grown.

With the years, we had turned to be a very large happy family. I still remember the winter evenings, when Mamma gathered us around the fire place in the private wing of the school. She always made hot chocolate while Pappa made sure that the piano was tuned. Then, we all sat around the fire, Pappa played and Mamma danced for him, the lovely clear glow in her eyes showing once again they had been made one for the other. And after that, she sometimes read for us or told us fairy stories, or tales of old times, when the Garnier Opera House was still open and Paris was the City of Arts, of Light and Music, when Le Mirage was still a new open school and she was in charge…

One of those nights, we came to know the whole truth. I was fourteen at that time, newly out from children´s world and on into girls' affairs. It had been a sad day for me, for Pappa and I had had a terrible argument, after he caught me and Ivan, one of the current students in my ballet class, sharing a kiss.

I can see clearly now that Pappa was not a hard man, not at all, though at that time, in my adolescent years, I couldn´t understand why he always showed himself so very much protective around the family he and Mamma had created. But that afternoon after our argument he told me to lock in my room, and remain there until he or Mamma came to speak to me. None of them came, and I spent all the afternoon crying…but Marshall, my half brother, did. He spoke softly, as it was his character, announcing there was another story telling session coming and they wanted me down in the living room with the rest of the family. I opened my eyes, astonished… was I not going to be preached at? Marshall insisted, so reluctantly I stepped downstairs, wondering why on earth my brother and sisters still liked these old stories. They were not children anymore, but a full grown man in his twenties, almost about to graduate in Medicine and two young ladies. At that time, I admired my sister Valerie, who had become a wonderful ballet teacher… even Matilda shared duties at school when she wasn´t writing or reading at the Library. I was the youngest, only fourteen. But I was NOT a child anymore!

That night, Mamma and Pappa told us their story, and we all listened with rapt attention, though we never talked again about it. And that winter night, many years later, I decided to unfold their tale again. But before that I had something to do.

I left Mamma´s side for an instant to open the door of her bedroom and step on the main hall. There, downstairs, there were dozens of students, waiting. Perhaps waiting for me. Marshall and my sisters followed, and Cory too, always standing at her husband´s side, as she had done since they first met. But it was me who spoke.

"_It is my sad duty to inform you"_, I started, _"that Madame Ivy Depreaux, spiritual leader of this school, has entered immortality at eight twenty five this evening…"_

Silence filled everything for an endless second. Then, something happened. One of the students opened his music box, one all applicants were given once they were accepted in Le Mirage, and Mamma´s song started to sound. After that, someone started singing, some simple lyrics for a simple but meaningful song: the School Waltz.

_"Let´s dance,__  
__you can take two little footsteps,__  
__I´ll go anywhere that you step too,__  
__Cause I´m waltzing with you.___

_My feet aren´t falling out of rhythm,__  
__I don´t know what I´m doing with them___

_But I know I´m waltzing with you…__  
__As magic as it seems to me,___

_We´re on the floor with two left feet, __  
__Let´s keep on dancing until our hearts keep the beat.___

_Here comes the encore,__  
__Flow again around the dancefloor,__  
__One step right, and then left,___

_I´m leading you__  
__Now that I´m waltzing with you…"_

I did not stay in the hall for long, just enough to hear the students' song, until I painfully felt tears would fill my eyes if I did not leave the place. And that I did, heading straight for the attic. I knew exactly what I had to look for. Mamma kept all memories of her old times in a red leather trunk which had traveled with all of us many times to Pappa´s estate in Italy and also during our summers in Corfu. It was there where all their lives were kept, a collection of papers and memories Mamma had stored for years, the same one they had used the night we knew all the truth.

And that winter night, while everyone else at Le Mirage performed their lament for the death of a star, I opened the box of dreams, to have them with me forever.

I am Eloise Batistelli Depreaux, youngest daughter of Eve and Antonius, and this is the story of my parents, when Paris was the City of Love, when the Garnier Opera House was still a theatre.

When a girl with ballet dreams and a composer with music in his heart were young… and free to be loved and give their love in return.

END OF CHAPTER ONE (more soon)


	2. Chapter 2 One night in Barcelona

**CHAPTER ONE: **_**"One night in Barcelona"**_

30 JUNE, 1874. A VILLA NEAR LA MALVARROSA BEACH. BARCELONA, SPAIN

Ivy took off her shoes and stepped to the beach, using the private gate of the villa. Inside that house the air was oppressively wet, everything was so empty and silent that she might have wanted to shout if she stayed there, all alone, for more time, so she thanked the smooth and fresh contact of the sand on her tired feet, the sound of the sea, the touch of the wet sand on her feet. Ivy had not told anyone, but there was something she could not deny. She hadn't enjoyed the night they had spent out. Only the piano concert. Only that music.

At first, Ivy had felt excited; at last, after more than a week going out every night, and ending having dinner with some of his husband's business partners, she would have a little amusement. She would go to a piano concert. And he had told her she should look astonishing that night, so that she did, enjoying the preparations. She had carefully chosen her best silky dress, done her hair in the most elegant style, enjoying the hours of waiting before he returned to the villa from his business, just getting ready for that one perfect night she would live.

That concert was perfect. El Palau de la Música, the most fashionable theatre in all Barcelona, recently opened but with quite a good taste for music. Shyly, she had made her own investigations about the performance: it was to be the opening night of the summer season, a series of concertos which would include the first night for a young Italian musician.

Antonius Batistelli.

Well, at the end, she had had very confusing feelings about that night. More than confusing. She had expected that there would be just the two of them, she had wished her husband would please her, but no. There had been too many endless business chats, too many partners to meet for a couple just married spending their honeymoon in Spain. Ivy had expected a romantic dinner under the moonlight after the concert, a stroll towards La Rambla avenue and then a quiet night of love in his arms. But nothing of the sort had happened. Instead, Adrian had tortured her with a piano concert

That music had made her feel alive again, waking her up inside in some way or another. But she had also felt embarrassed in her box at the Palau de la Música, while the young pianist performed that beautiful and enthusing nocturne, a heavenly inspired melody Ivy could almost touch and never forget. Because, only for instants, just for seconds, she had almost felt the musician could have read her mind. A stranger, only a stranger, she repeated to herself; it was just a man playing the piano. But no. She would have given anything to dance with that music. Music telling her story. Her unknown story. When she was young, when she was free. When she still lived in Paris, the City of Light, the city of Love and Beauty.

Old times. Memories of herself, a young girl living in Paris, going every night to the Opera. She had longed to be a ballerina, she had wanted to be on stage. But this dream was forever lost, she felt it dying as the last notes of the nocturne faded. Passion died before her eyes. And her eyes blinked to avoid tears. It seemed ages now, and only ten days had passed after her wedding. Ten days and nine unending nights, and still, she hadn´t seen him in her bed. What was she doing wrong?

"_¿Se siente mal, baronesa?"_. Ivy had heard those words too many times now to understand a little Spanish.

Yes, she did.

She had felt terrible, for she had, again, felt she was alone in the world, although she was surrounded by many people, although she was supposed to be the happiest lady in town, the new wife for a nobleman. Eve, Baroness of Lettisieur. She would never be simply Ivy. Never again. She wanted to fly way from where she was, following the fading notes of that nocturne, but now it was too late.

Ivy closed her eyes as she walked across the silky sand. The scent of the sea entered her lungs as she breathed deeply. The waves were calling her. _Come here_, they were singing, _come with us..._ When passion is prison, you can never get free. And the sea was inviting Ivy to be his bride in the dark. The gently waves caressed her features as she entered the water, her long red hair a flag drowning in the ocean. Slowly she entered the water, and the waves rocked her. She swam unnoticed, her tears mingled with the water as she danced into the ocean... and the painful nocturne notes still inside her mind.

Moments later, Ivy returned to the villa. There was no light in Adrian´s room. She motioned towards the silent corridor and opened the door, leaning against the jam. She watched him sleep for while. It hurt inside, because she hadn´t been able to make him hers. Because her passion still remained hidden in the darkness of the room. Ivy quietly undressed herself and laid next to her sleeping husband.

"_Adrian?"_, she whispered in his ear, _"are you sleeping, dear?"_

Silence. He didn´t move. She touched him, feeling his heat and her burning desire breaking inside. Hurting her. His skin was wet and smooth. She hugged him deeply, breathing his aroma, and kissed his lips.

"_Are you sleeping?"_, she asked again. No words came out of his lips. He simply rolled over.

Five hours later, Ivy was still awake. Waiting to be touched, waiting to be loved for the first time. Watching the sun rise over the shining sea. She still had the notes of that flying nocturne in her mind. And she hadn´t stopped crying.

LA MALVARROSA BEACH. 2 O´CLOCK IN THE MORNING

He breathed deeply, enjoying the gentle and warm breeze coming from the sea as he got rid of his shoes and felt the contact of the sand on his feet. His first night at the Palau de La Música had been an assert and he was proud of the way things had gone. Spain had welcomed him with open arms and Tony had not hesitated to enjoy whatever the country could offer him. It had been too many hours of exhausting and unending work before he could get where he was. Sometimes, especially during nights like that, Tony had almost wished to stop, to recover all the things he had once left behind.

One of these things was family; his own large one had played a great part in his career as a musician. Music had been always been present in the Batistelli´s state in Tuscany; he did not remember a day when he had not seen anyone at home singing or playing any instrument. He smiled when he thought of his older brother Bernardo. He had always encouraged him to give his music career a chance. But what his brother never told him was that once you give your energy and efforts to music, there is no turning back.

Days and nights had passed quickly for him, to make weeks first, and then months, since he had a time for himself. Tonight he had managed to give some patrons the slip, politely declining the offer for a night out. He had intended to return back to the Ritz hotel, where the Palau de la Música manager had booked him a room, but his steps had blindly guided him through La Rambla Park first, and then to that lonely beach.

He had walked silently, whistling one of his favourite melodies from Mozart, enjoying the solitude of Barcelona at night, until he found a place in the jetty, one that led to a private and secluded area of the beach. Yes, he would sit there, on the sand, and give himself a time to read a letter from his mother, one he had received early in the morning but which was still unfolded in his pocket…

'My dearest Nino,

I hope you are by now well settled in Spain; it seems like yesterday when you left and we are all missing you. Are you eating well and sleeping properly? Are these Spanish people taking good care of you? And how is Barcelona? The girls say you have to tell them all about the city, and the people you are meeting there the next time you visit us…'

Here, Tony smiled. No one but his mother had ever called him by that nickname, the one he had since he was a little child and got tall enough to climb to the piano. It would be long until he had some days to go back to Castiglioncello. Mother knew. And however, regardless her efforts to keep the family together, under her caring and protective wings, she had let him go. The conductor could not suppress a grin when he read his mother´s first words. He was eating well, he would have told her, though not sleeping much; nights were the time of day he used for composing. And in nine nights he had written the nocturne he had already released as a soloist.

' …Nino, try to find some time to give a thought to what we spoke of before you left. I do approve of the life you have chosen, figglio, but you can´t be living alone all the time. You should find some time to make friends, to meet a nice lady and find that there is much more beside your music and your career. I can´t see the day when you give us the good news that you found your match, dear, when you settle and found a family yourself…'

That was not that easy, Tony thought to himself. His work absorbed him and required dedication and effort… and as for his personal life… he gave his heart to someone once and their music careers took them apart. No. He would not take that risk again. Not now that he had learnt Cara had made it in Berlin and she formed part of the Opera cast there. Perhaps in the company of that famous tenor: Ubaldo Piangi. He just hoped she had forgiven him already.

It was the thought of her which changed Tony´s mood that night, from the excitement of a first night to the memories of what could have been and would never come back. The conductor stood there, sitting by the sea, just staring at the moon shining over the ocean, for endless moments, until he was unable to distinguish dream and reality…

Then, he saw her.

The figure of a woman, in the distance, getting rid of his clothes, untying her red long hair slowly, unaware of his peeping look. Under the light of the full moon. He could see her for just an instant, before she got into the sea.

An illusion, he thought.

He would have loved to give her a name, he would have been tempted to approach her and silently join her into the water. But he did not move. He simply saw how she vanished into the deep sea.

-END OF CHAPTER TWO- (more soon)


	3. Chapter 3 Cold and Empty

**CHAPTER THREE: '_Cold and empty'_**

TIMELINE: SECOND SUMMER IN SPAIN AFTER IVY'S MARRIAGE. A ROOM IN A COUNTRY COTTAGE NEAR SEVILLE.

Fed up with all these stupid greetings. Ivy was fed up and tired. She did not want to be there, although she had to admit the Mohedano's state was one of the most beautiful ones she had ever seen in Spain. Spain. Again, it had been Spain that Adrian had chosen for their summer ho1idays. Andalucia, in the south, where days are as hot as hell and nights always pitch dark. She had hoped, somehow, that her husband would take her to Granada, she had heard of the great palace of La Alhambra and its picturesque gardens; but no, it had been Seville. It was always as he wanted. 'It's business, Eve, you should behave like the Baroness you now are. ..' Better if you do. Better to stand endless chats about complicate investments. Better if you stay si1ent and say nothing. Perhaps then, maybe if you are the woman he wants. ..maybe then he would come to you. Any night. Maybe tonight, she thought as she combed her long red hair .

What was happening? Wasn't she pretty enough to light up his passions? She stared at her own body in the mirror. Perhaps it was because she still had the figure and the soul of a ballerina. It had to be that what Adrian disliked from her, yes. But she was pretty... creamy skin, a wonderful long curly hair. She stared at her legs... weren't they too short? And her feet, her toes were deformed because of wearing ballet slippers. She did not have a generous bosom either, though her hips were slim and her waist as perfect as the one of a marble statue. What was then she doing wrong then? She had forgotten about her old dreams of dancing on stage, she had changed and moved all the world around her to be with him, to be his wife until death do them part. ..what else then could Adrian want from her?

He had gone out again, with most of the men at the cortijo, to dine at the Alcazar; Again, she was alone in a big house, where nobody spoke her tongue, where there was no one to lean on. ..Ivy shivered, and sadly gave a look to the luxurious scarf Adrian had praised her with hanging on top of the wardrobe, a handmade piece of black silky cloth with carefully embroidered roses in it. ' A very expensive gift, the one of your husband', Dolores had said, 'he must love you very much...' No. She did not need diamond rings or luxurious adornments. She did not want them. It was not a mantón de Manila what she needed.

She was tired, and felt inexplicably sleepy. Thanks God, sleep would visit her tonight. That way she would end the day having, at least, one little pleasure, just a piece of heaven within the hell her life was now. ' A mi esposa le agotan los conciertos, se emociona demasiado', Adrian had politely refused the invitation they had been given for a night recital in the park, arguing she excited herself too much and couldn 't help but crying. The Baron had commented on the incident Ivy suffered when spending their honeymoon in Barcelona, when she had unexpectedly burst into tears during a young pianist concert. The rest of the guests at lunch had smiled politely and even one of them congratulated Adrian for having a so sensitive wife. But it had been Rocio, Amador Mohedano's wife, who had said then the most wrong word of all at the worst of times.

_"Quizás el buen Dios les envíe un pequeño heredero muy pronto... _", the woman had said.

Pregnancy. A fothcoming child could be the reason why the Baroness had turned so pale and felt so tired and sleepy. It was not why she had to be taken outside La Maestranza while maestro Lucena was duelling his third bull. Ivy tried to push away the image from her mind, but she found it almost impossible. If that was the best Adrian could do, if a corrida was far enough to substitute any concert. ..he had showed he had no idea! Ivy had felt sick the moment the bullfighter killed the first animal. ..people screaming... 'Ole! Ole! Torero! Matador!' and all the blood, the stinky smell of it was enough to make her dizzy; such a cruelty, hunt an animal that awful way! The horses, poor animals, as scared as the bull itself. This was the way things ran in Spain at that time, these were the kind of entertainments noble people attended to. Adrian loved them, violent things, males dressed in tight torero suits. Blood. Animal slaughters.

She stepped on her night clothes, alone, as every night. Yawning, Ivy climbed on to the huge bed, waiting for Adrian to come to her. Two rooms away, maestro Lucena was celebrating his success with his manager's daughter, Mercedes. Ivy tried not to hear them, she buried her head under the satin pillow, and thought hard. Flowers. Her parent's garden. The smell of roses and the music. The sea, the waves. The piano. And the face of that young pianist, playing his melody just for her. Anything not to hear the lovers' moanings of pleasure. Soon, it will be morning... It will be silent again.

A high pitched scream came then into the living room. Adrian smiled wickedly to himself. Ivy had woken up. The drug he had put on her milk had made her sleep, and he had punished her. That way she would learn to be a Baroness.

_"Algún problema, Barón? _", Mohedano asked

_"No, Amador... sólo es mi esposa. Eva a veces despierta un poco angustiada... _"

He presented his excuses to Amador and Rocío and climbed to Ivy's bedroom, which he entered without knocking. His wife was horrified, in front of the mirror. ..and her luxurious red long hair had been reduced to a short shadow of what it had once been. ..

_"What... what have you done, you bastard??", _she shouted and went straight to hit him, _"My hair! You've cut my hair!!" _

Adrian slapped her back. Ivy fell on the floor, tears running madly from her face.

_"Stop yourself this instant, Eve!", _he roared back. Ivy's right hand was now under Adrian's heel, _"and learn to behave! _", he 1ifted her up, grabbing her already cut hair. Ivy shouted in pain, _"Never, you hear me? Never again look at men that dirty way, you bitch! I can do whatever I want with you! YOU ARE MINE! _! "

From that day on, Ivy always locked the door of her room. Anywhere and anytime.

TIME LINE: AUTUMN 1874. A SHIP APPROACHING SOUTHAMPTON COAST

She was dead. Buried in that cold graveyard. Seven hours and fifteen days had passed since she received the letter from monsieur Lacroix and rushed to Paris. Her mother was dying. The woman dressed in black could just remember having written a quick note to tell her absent husband she was urgently leaving to France. And then, nothing else but darkness and an endless waiting. Waiting inside the coach to get to her family's house. Waiting for the ship to arrive to Calais, waiting for the doctor to tell her the news. Waiting, sleepless, beside her mother's bed. Waiting, until she faded…

She stood still on the deck, as the ship was approaching Southampton's harbour, her eyes fixed for a moment on the water surface. A cold wind blowing from the north should have made her shiver. But she felt nothing, she heard nothing. Only the water words. The sound of waves. Mourning. Crying. Silent tears raining down from her eyes, falling silently onto the ocean. It began to rain. A raindrop just splashed on her forehead and it was like a tear from heaven. Were the clouds and the skies really weeping over her? Was she really alone in the whole, wide, grey world? Was it possible that even God was crying for her?

She had dangerously stepped forward to the mainsail border. Just one moment of unconscious pondering. What if she jumped down? No one would ever miss her. She would fly. And drown into the ocean, where she would dance again, following the rocking waves, listening to the water song. She would hear the merciful silence of the ocean… and it would take her pain away…

"_Beware, madam! Get out from the border!"_

She opened her eyes in surprise when the sailor´s voice entered her reverie and pushed her back from the border. She murmured a quick apologise and stepped back. It had been just an instant, a flashback. She hadn´t intended to kill herself. She didn´t mean to. Please, forgive me, mother…

TWO HOURS LATER. SOUTHAMPTON HARBOUR.

It was pitch dark when the ship finally arrived to the harbour. She waited until her luggage was loaded inside the carriage and looked around her. No one was waiting for her, no one in the house knew she was coming back home. 'Back home… ', she muttered. She had just left forever the only place she felt like a real home, far away, in Paris. She should miss her gardens so much… Her mother´s voice reading, sharing conversations in front of the fire, her visits to the Opera with her father… That had been her one and only home, for her residence now was an empty house.

It was funny the way she had got accustomed not to think about Paris anymore after such a long time. In fact, she was used to have empty thoughts locked in an empty mansion. No more music; no more dancing dreams. Just foggy days waiting for him to come back in solitude, rain and clouds. She felt that instant she had always been a queen of rain, lying alone on a bed of nails, dreaming about the sun…

"_Where are we going, madam?", _the coachman asked

"_Foxes Manor"_, she answered, an absent tone in her voice, _"I am Baroness Eve de Letissieur…"_

A SILENT CORRIDOR AT FOXES MANOR.

She run towards the corridor, a sudden impulse to vomit after the ghastly scene she had just seen in her own room, helpless frenzied tears falling down her cheek,. She rushed to the water closet, dizzy, hardly able to breathe anymore, and she threw up all the food left in her stomach... 'Oh no... no... no...!!! I´m losing my mind.! Please, God, help me!', she cried out loud, hysterically pleading to no one.

She leaned against the wall, falling on her knees in desperation, trembling like a falling leaf, until there were no more tears to cry, and everything was little by little rubbed out, until she closed her eyes and saw that image no more! A failure! A fraud! That was what all her love was reduced to! Rage filled her mind as the image of Adrian and his male lover hurt her dead, making her stumble and fall on the floor… she fainted.

Ivy tried to compose herself, still sobbing uncontrollably, almost an impossible attempt… But she couldn't be forever locked in the bathroom. She had to come over, somehow. She was leaving him forever!

A slam abruptly woke Adrian up, making him jump from bed like a cat on hot bricks. He had given a day free to all the staff at Foxes Manor. They were alone, weren´t they? But, that noise… a sudden flow of wind? He got up, put his housecoat on and went out to the corridor. The moment he opened the door, an unmistakable scent of roses filled his lungs… Damn it! His wife was back! IVY WAS HOME!!

"_You! Get up this instant!"_, he shouted.

The nameless young man, half asleep, blinked his eyes confused, as the nobleman hurried him to leave the room

"_Move!"_, he ordered, and threw some coins the lover collected quickly with his own clothes.

God! She was supposed to be in Paris! Adrian locked the door, shocked. Think, think hard… She will know! She will! Even if you simply don´t tell her, she´ll make demands…

It was many months since there was only silence between them. No talks, no words… Nothing. Adrian had turned too careless with his wife, looking for easier affairs without making up excuses. No one knows if he wanted to be caught, hidden in the dark, coming back to Foxes Manor at dawn. Ivy never waited for him to awake. Not any longer. She had stopped arguing, there were no demands, no tears, no reproaches anymore. Adrian had found out it was easier that way.

There were others acting the same, pretending to have a decent family life. 'Just have sex with her once, give her a child, and she´ll forget all about you…', they had said. But five years had passed. He was unable to make love to a woman. She was beautiful unclothed, stunningly attractive to any other male in the whole world, he thought. Her white skin, her glassy blue eyes, her long curly red hair… He would never get tired of watching his wife… That was the only thing he could do. Watch her, astonished… Ivy, staring at the rain through the window pane , Ivy, caressing the piano she had stopped playing long ago… Ivy, sitting in front of the fire… Ivy, sad… Ivy, silent…

He stopped her leaving at the top of the stairway. She was carrying no luggage. Adrian grabbed her arm to stop his wife, but she removed him sharply.

"_Do not dare touch me!"_, she slapped him on the facewith all the strength left she could gather, _"Never again!" _, Ivy stopped, driven by her own rage, almost waiting for an explanation. But Adrian said nothing, "_How could you…do… THIS to me…??"_, she cried

"_You will NOT get out of here!"_, he said, grabbing her by the hair. Ivy yawned. _"You will NOT leave me, you are MY wife!"_

For the first time in all these years, she did not hesitate to answer. Ivy tried hard to get free, and she succeeded, kicking her husband right there, where men are always and unavoidably disarmed. Adrian fell heavily on the floor, and she did not hesitate to use the very expensive glass adorning the hall against him, smashing the object right against his head.

"_YOU ??? "_, she spat at the now silent and aching Baron, _"Now I do know who you are, monsieur!", _Ivy spat furiously, _"You are a coward! a selfish blasted coward who never loved me! And I… I was just your little wife. But let me tell you one last thing: this was the last time you made my life a living hell. We are through!"_, she announced and then turned away, a mad running pace downstairs.

The last thing Adrian heard before he fainted was a slam of the main door.

Ivy was gone.

TIME LINE: LONDON, 1876. SPRING. IVY´S LAST PERFORMANCE IN THE MURPHY´S THEATRE.

Three minutes to go on stage. Ivy was waiting for David to end his number. She was next. It was not her first performance, for the brothers had trained her just enough by now and she felt pretty confident about her own skills. But she always felt the same, no matter how many times she would get on stage again. She closed her eyes. First, there was nothing in her mind…then, there came the faces, the applause, a full standing ovation… She could see that, feel it in her blood long before it happened. 'That is the power of an artist,' Wills had taught her in one of their first lessons, 'just make clear what you want to show your audience, and then breathe it to make your own...' She perfectly knew what she wanted to make them believe. Especially the gentleman who, she knew, had come to see her that night at the Murphy's Brothers theatre.

She had received her husband's note early that morning, together with a bunch of white roses she still had in her dressing room. Adrian wanted an interview. At first, she had been terrified at the idea of meeting him again after two years. She didn't want to see him, not anymore. For there was nothing to be seen, nothing to be saved. And she had tried so hard to forget him… it was simply not fair. Adrian had no right to ask her how she felt, not even to tell her back. No, she had made her decision. She wouldn't tell him she still missed him sometimes, when she was alone in her room nor that she still felt she would always miss him. But the play that had been their marriage was over. She had said her last lines that nightmarish night. Now it was all over.

But she had spent the whole afternoon planning, thinking furiously about a way of finishing. Adrian won't get away with it. No, it was time for revenge. When she finished her preparing and looked at her own reflex in the mirror of her dressing room, a heavenly beautiful lady was smiling at her. She had intended to look the way she was. Just for him to admire one last time before she took his stupid male prejudices away.

Ivy spied the audience clapping from the backstage while David bowed at them. She was eager to know where that pack-of-lies man sat. She was carrying the bouquet of roses Adrian had sent with her, holding it so tightly that some thorns made her hands bleed. But she was feeling no pain. Once again, Ivy felt nothing more than a sudden impulse of pride before stepping to stage to perform the poem she had chosen for that performance…her last performance…

_He never brought her roses_

_He never heard her love words_

_He hardly talked to her anymore_

_He never opened her door at the end of the day_

Ivy looked around, searching the audience to find his face. She was burning inside, burning with rage and violence for the first time in two years. She grasped the roses again and some drops of her own blood strained her white dress. Her blue eyes sparkled with a sudden burst of fury when she went on with the next lines…

_She still remembers when_

_She couldn't wait to love him_

_She used to hate to leave him_

_But after his coming home late at night_

_She was still waiting for him_

_And he was always so far,_

_Always so cold, so silent_

_Until she turned off the light_

_He never brought her flowers anymore._

She had found him, sitting in one of the front seats. Adrian had had the nerve to come to watch her play. She would show him up how it feels when someone tells you the naked truth… She paused, focusing on her voice alone, making her tone absent and empty…

_She thought it could be natural,_

_It could have lasted forever_

_Now all her tears don't count anymore_

_They just laid on the floor _

_Until she wiped them away_

Hold on. Don't speak too fast. This won't happen again. You must tell him how you feel, you must do it. Just hold on… and finish what he started…

_There's one thing she remembers_

_Among the things he taught her_

_she learnt how to lie and she learnt how to cry_

_she never learnt how to laugh_

_she only learnt how to cry_

_Now it's time that she learns_

_How to tell him goodbye…_

_Cause he never said he needed her_

_She never heard his love words_

_So she doesn't need his roses_

…_anymore…_

The auditorium was filled with a sudden blaze of icy silence. Ivy took the flowers and threw them defiantly at the foot of her staring husband. She closed her eyes and saw nothing else. It was only then when a noisy applause from the audience broke the silence of her mind…

The curtain fell at her feet after the second bowing. The audience was still clapping excitedly. Ivy opened her eyes, confused, hardly knowing where she was now. Her head began to spin dizzily as she rushed into her dressing room. Just after closing the door did she realise he was inside, waiting. She made a desperate attempt to go out, but Adrian stopped her.

"_No"_, he said sharply, pushing the door closed . Ivy was now trapped between the door and his body. She felt the urge to scream for help. But she didn't. This was no one else's business, whatever the end might be.

"_What do you want, monsieur?"_, her voice sounded unusually calmed, even icy when she addressed to Adrian.

He fixed her eyes on hers, just for a brief moment.

"_You WHAT??? What are you going to do?", _she answered defiantly,_ "lock me again in a big mansion, as if I were one of your sculptures to collect? Never again…! Not now that I am living my own life; you let me go, for a man that´s not a man can´t have his own woman. Leave the room now or I will scream!"_

"_Ah, you will? And what if I make close this theatre, what if I destroy the refuge you have built with these people? Think Eve, you married me… behave, or everything you love will perish under my heel…"_

Adrian faded his wife, holding her tightly, so closely that she could feel him again, his lips next to hers, his kiss undressing the bottom of her soul… No, please, not again…

There was a rap on the door. Ivy quickly escaped from her husband's embrace and run towards the opposite corner, her face drained.

"_Ivy!"_, David´s voice could be heard outside. The door handle moved, _" Ivy! Are you all right? Open the door!_ "

David pushed the door open and saw her, nearly paralyzed in the corner of the room. There was a man he had never seen before.

"_Are you okay?"_, he stared at the stranger, shocked. What was happening?

She could do nothing else but nod in silence. Adrian left the dressing room as quick as a lightning. David run to her and Ivy threw herself into his arms, crying hysterically…

TWO MONTHS LATER. AN UNINHABITED CHÂTEAUX IN LA MADELEINE DISTRICT, PARIS.

Ivy stood silent , looking at the garden from the window for a moment, and then walked around the dusty room. Long ago, when Ivy was sixteen, that had been her room, her private kingdom to dream about whenever she came back from a ballet performance with her father. She still remembered that first night, wearing real lady´s clothing, looking at her own reflex in the same mirror she had just uncovered. She saw herself beautiful, enjoying the new silky dress she was going to wear… so many dreams, so many illusions were still locked inside that mirror! Ivy had come back to Paris to live all those things again, to use the things she had learnt and make magic for others… just the way only an artist can do…And she had learnt to be an artist after all…

Yes, she had become a great actress. What had happened at the Murphy's theatre just two months ago showed that. She had made David swore on his honour he could tell no one about the stranger he had seen in her dressing room the night of her last performance, not even to Wills. Especially to Wills. It had to be a secret. The only secret she had to her stage brother. David had been reluctant, but he finally accepted, when he realised it was so important for her. He was a good man. Grace was very lucky to have married him, she thought…

Ivy sighted. Paris was the best place to forget him. It was her home, the place she should never have left. She had lots of plans for that house. There would be roses everywhere, and music... and dancing... All these things would bring her back to life. A school full of eager students to rock the rest of the world on stage.. 'Ballet and ball dancing classes only while the rooms are being made, easier to get to be known that way', she thought lightly, excited at the sole idea. She still had some contacts in Paris, and Wills had insisted on using his to help her find new teachers. And she had money enough, didn't she? Adrian had plenty of money. And she was determined to use him the way she had been used.

It was going to be hard to stand on her own. But she´d make it. She looked at herself again in the mirror. Somehow, someday… Ivy would look again at her reflex and she would see there was no one else behind her smile, no one else but the woman she had always wanted to be; as long as she could keep Adrian away from her, as long as she devoted to he dreams, nothing would harm her again. It was time to use all the things she had learnt on stage in the behalf of others.

"_Le Mirage…"_, she spoke the word aloud. This would be the name all Paris remembered. The name of her dream.

-END OF CHAPTER THREE- (more soon)


	4. Chapter 4 the Power of Goodbye

**CHAPTER FOUR: _"The power of goodbye"_**

AUGUST 5TH, 1880. 45 MINUTES PAST MIDNIGHT. LE MIRAGE INSTITUTE OF PERFORMING ARTS.

Ivy opened the window of her studio at Le Mirage and watched the moon shining in the distance. This would be another bright night in the City of Light. There was not a cloud in the horizon, the sky painted with bright stars and a slight breeze coming from the river. She suddenly remembered her father. _"You´ve got a piece of Paris stars in your eyes, Little Flower…"_, he had said. Sometimes, when she was no more than a teenager, she spent twilights sitting there, in that very same room, with his father, both watching the sky grow darker and darker, while the stars danced for them. So intense, so clear… 'Some day, my child, you will see Paris with the eyes of love, when you meet a man and your heart races because of him…' Now these words hurt as Ivy watched the sky; memories came back to hunt her through the window pane. She had a new life, and there was no room for love anymore.

Ivy sighed as she closed the window and sat down to read the letter she had received that morning from her friend Grace. There, she informed her of the latest news from her family, how much had her twins grown, which was their new production for the Murphy´s theatre. Ivy sighed again. Yes, she missed the stage… so very much! She had lost many things in order to found the school she now owned, and, though her days were filled with frantic work, there was silence in her nights. And it would always be like that.

Yes, she had to admit it had been her decision and she did not regret having come back from England, abandoning a promising career on stage, to devote to her work with the students. They filled her days, just as Grace´s ones were completely worthy because of her twins and husband. Yet, her friend had a family. She didn´t. She just had an illusion, a dream.

But it was, by far, her greatest dream.

Slowly, Ivy began unfolding her mind in a response for her friend, shorter than she had planned it, but, as the words were written, a feeling of loneliness began to fill her heart, just as the stars were filling the dark sky over Paris…

_Good day to you, my dearest Grace,_

_I know, I know, there's been quite a lot of time since my last letter, you don't have to tell aloud what you're already thinking, my friend. How is everything going on, dearest one? It has been such a wonderful thing to read you had a great success with your new 'Coppelia' production in Germany. I would have loved to attend your first night but recent events have kept me busy with the school._

_Paris keeps missing you three, Gracy, and Le Mirage runs as demanding as usual but as gratifying as ever. Every day, I do have three or four new applicants to enroll; not all of them talented, but this year's promotion of students is indeed promising, so you will surely have some traveling there, ready to enroll your company._

_Oh Grace, you can't imagine how I would like you, Dave and Wills to be here these days. I've had the craziest idea of all, my friend. When I booked my box for this year´s opera season at Garnier, I was informed that the orchestra had a new conductor, Maestro Antonius Batistelli. Yes, you've heard me speaking of his music, Grace, dear, its the musician I told you about the last season I spent with you, the one offering that delightful concert in Barcelona. I was bold enough to invite him to a hosting lesson for my students, and, though he might not accept, if he does, please, wish me luck, for maybe then, after the audition, Le Mirage would finally have the relationship with the Garnier Opera House I have always dreamt of for the school._

_This is by far the shortest letter of all time, but I hope you can forgive me, I hardly have time to get away from all the work I now have here, and I know Wills would frown when he read these lines, but I am sure this will be worth my efforts for the school's sake. Please, send the most pleasant thoughts to Wills and Dave and hug little Mickey and Brian for me, will you?_

_Your greatest friend, who loves you dearly,_

Ivy 

Ivy found herself there, thinking of her new project. A letter, another letter. But this one would be very especial. It would be an invitation. If Grace were there with her, she thought, she would have encouraged her to do it. Yes, she would prepare an audition. All her students working again, together, to give life to a project. A hosting session. Oh, if only he accepted to visit her! Would it not be nice?, She found herself thinking, would it not be wonderful, to hear that music again? Just the way she had heard it in Barcelona.

Love.

That would be the word; the spirit around which all her work at the school would spin around.

Love. Everlasting and pure Love.

She found herself trying hard to capture the moment, sitting here, in front of a blank sheet of paper, while another fresh morning was breaking in Paris. She was tired of rehearsing, and thought she should write to conceal her own feelings with the dance. _"Love…",_ she whispered aloud, in the solitude of the room. A feeling she never knew from any man. Love was indeed a second hand emotion for her. She could recall love reflected in other people´s faces, love present in the songs she played, the lines she recited, the steps she took when she danced. But it was all empty. How many times had anyone talked for her ears alone about love, absolute and ageless love? No, she had never been talked that way. Because she didn´t want to have a heart to be broken... Love was not close to pleasure, but to pain. And she was tired of listening to the sound of her own tears...

Ivy began to write what her soul was still storing, without thinking twice.

_These are my hands, but what can they give me?_

_These are my eyes, but they cannot see_

_These are my arms, but they don´t know tenderness_

_My heart has always been a lonely hunter_

_Whenever love tried to welcome me..._

It was difficult to admit. Sometimes, she still hated herself to have been so foolish. From that moment on, she only thought about her own protection. It had been her decision. And yet, there were times where she was still scared to feel that way.

_These are my lips, but they can only whisper sorrow_

_This is my voice, but it´s always telling lies_

_This is my soul, hidden in the darkness of my mind_

_I know how to laugh, but I ´ve never known happiness_

_My heart has always been a lonely hunter_

_Whenever love tried to welcome me..._

How would it be, to fall inlove again? Would she be afraid? But, more important, would it ever happen to her? She found herself crying silently, while words kept on filling the blank page she had before her eyes.

_If love ever tries to welcome me_

_I bet my soul will always draw back_

_guilty of dust and sin_

_tired to be hurt _

_if love ever tries to welcome me..._

Ivy didn´t finish the writing. She finally fell asleep, exhausted, her head laying on the table. But, for the first time, sleep didn´t bring nightmares. She said goodbye to those nightmares and welcomed sweet memories to her bed... ones of a stage, of some music. A man playing the piano, just for her.

All in all, memories she didn´t remember when she woke up...

SAME NIGHT AND TIME. A ROOM IN THE DIEU HOTEL, NEAR THE OPERA HOUSE.

He never told us this part of the story, but I can infer most of it, judging the things I heard from the Opera diva, and remembering the limited occasions when her name was pronounced at Le Mirage. It had not been difficult for my father to discover where she was lodging. Everyone at the Opera House had a slightly different story to tell about her illness and he had decided almost at once he would visit her that evening.

Whatever the case.

He could not wait another moment to see her. All that had passed between them, since he had arrived in Paris almost two weeks ago, was a note from her, cold and empty of all intimacy. Not that I have it in my hands I know it was clear she had wanted to hurt him; perhaps because he had hurt her before, but my father did not know. He only knew that letter was not satisfying any longer. He needed to see her, to look into her eyes to know that all was truly well. That, maybe, he still had a chance.

Or not.

From the moment my father had entered the room, he was aware that another man was present, perhaps not in person, but his existence was obvious, though he had not wanted to admit it. All his attention had been focused upon her.

"_Cara!"_

Yes, Cara. In the flesh. In that room. He had taken in her incredibly beautiful features, and compared them to his blurred images, deciding she was now more beautiful than ever. She did intend to look healthy and every bit as lovely as she had several years ago.

Indeed, a very unwise and instinctive decision.

I suppose my father might have felt his knees grow weak; I can imagine her now, sitting on a chaise lounge, only wearing a filmy negligee that did a bad job hiding her voluptuous figure.

"It has been far too long since we met last…", he whispered to her ears alone, giving her a charming smile which froze on her lips, releasing her hands only when she introduced him the man who also occupied the suite. There had been so much he would have wanted to ask her! But however, he had no time to ask. The question was answered for him Ubaldo Piangi entered the room, dressed only with his bathrobe. 

I know my father´s heart sank into his chest.

This man was now her lover, perhaps now even her husband.

"_Maestro Batistelli, welcome. __My intended and I look forward to working with you. She has mentioned your work to me in the past, and I am eager to see you in action…"_

I guess that would have been Sinior Piangi´s reply when he saw my father into the room, for everyone in the Opera agreed that, although the diva had her fits of temper, Ubaldo Piangi was a man of exquisite politeness, no matter the situation. My father used to say it was strange how one simple word could mean the best of happiness or the end of all hopes. And he had heard the one word:

Intended.

This man, he thought in those few seconds before speaking, had won Carlotta´s heart; there was no room for him anymore. All for the best, because otherwise I would have never existed, but this makes me realise my father was also a man of deep feelings.

"_I have known Cara in the past, and I wished to see her now; to make certain that she had recovered…"_

Tony continued remembering how he had stared into his former lover´s eyes. How wonderful it had been, simply to hear the sound of her voice once more and to feel the intimate sensation of his fingers around her hand. There were so many words he had longed to say, so many things he had longed to whisper against her ears…! He could not blame the other man; he had sensed a bit of possessive in his voice, but, if he had still been involved with her, he would have also felt the stirrings of jealousy in the prescience of another man. But, he was kidding himself, for he did feel envious of Ubaldo´s relationship with the desirable soprano. Tony realised it had been foolish to assume that, after so many years, she would still be free for him. Yet, he knew that, in this matter, common sense had failed to rule his heart.

He had not been able to stay for long. The news of her engagement with the watchful tenor, so recently embedded upon his heart, caused him to wish, more than ever, to be alone with his thoughts; to absorb all the emotions he had felt by being beside her once more and knowing she would never be his.

"_Please, forgive me", _he replied quietly, _"I cannot stay"_, Did she see the anguish in his eyes? Did she know he could not bear to be so close beside her and not have her? He could only hope she would understand the play of emotions upon his face, though he continued masking his feelings, _"Perhaps… perhaps another time…"_

And now, there he was, staring absently at the sky of Paris, the City of Light. The City of Love. He had expected to recover the love he once left behind, so foolishly. He had believed once he would see her again, those old times he had kept in his heart so fondly would come back. But no; there was one thing he had to accept: nothing in this world can last eternally. No one in Earth is completely on your side. Tony had considered, at first, the possibility of getting back to Barcelona, of returning to his old post and leave all that behind. It would be too painful, to see her every day, every night in the Opera and know she was forever away of him. No. The damage was done. What could he gain if he returned? Nothing. He should give his new life a chance. After all, he had always wanted to conduct an important orchestra as the one at Garnier.

He had once fallen in love, so madly that he had followed her to Paris.

Now, he felt he was falling apart; perhaps, he thought without a reason, as the lady he had seen that night, so long ago in the city of Barcelona, sinking into the ocean.

"_I should have followed her that night…"_, Tony murmured, before sleep found him, still staring at the night sky in Paris.

END OF CHAPTER FOUR (more soon)


	5. Chapter 5 Paris at last

CHAPTER TWO: "Paris at last"

**CHAPTER FIVE: **_**"Paris at last"**_

A SUMMER NIGHT IN PARIS, 1880. LE MIRAGE OFFICE 3: 45.

Ivy ended writing her letter and sighed deeply. She wanted to read it again before closing the envelope...

To the attention of Maestro Antonius Batistelli,

Dear sir:

First of all, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ivy Depreaux and, as you may have read in the envelope, I work as a drama and music teacher in a school I have recently opened in La Madeleine.

When I heard you were coming to Paris to be the opera conductor, I felt at last we, Parisians, were going to be lucky to have really good night music in our beloved opera. I remember your spectacular performance in Barcelona, where I had the opportunity to attend to some of your recitals, and what you made me feel has encouraged me to write this letter of the most amiable nature.

I was wondering if you could possibly have some minutes to spare in my school as an especial guest in one of my lessons. I am sure you would be glad to let us show you our work in Le Mirage. In case you might decide to spend a little of your free time in my school, it will be an honour for me to open Le Mirage for you and organise an audition.

I would also like to use this opportunity to congratulate you for your arrival to the Opera Populaire. Your talent and genius will make the performances even more interesting and enjoyable with you in Paris.

I am at your disposal in my office at Le Mirage,

Yours faithfully: MADAME IVY DEPREAUX

'That´s enough writing for tonight', she thought, closing the envelope. It was ten minutes past midnight and Ivy couldn´t sleep. It was too hot in her room and she was sweating. She took the last sip of milk and tried to relax on her chaise-long. But she couldn´t. She was still nervous and excited. She had written at least six presentation letters, but this one was carefully written, measuring every word she put down and taking care about the tone and register. Perhaps she had been too polite, but she hadn´t lied at all. Would Batistelli accept her invitation? And if so, what would she offer him? Would he be interested in visiting her school? Oh, if so, that would be marvellous! She had followed his professional career the moment she was finally free to concentrate her attention on the things she really wished to do, the moment she left that rainy gloomy mansion in Southampton and stepped into the busy and magical life of London.

She thought of Wills. Yes, Wills would have encouraged her to write that letter, even to be bold enough to get out of her confinement and try to get the musician at Garnier. Well, at least, she had done the same, years ago, with him in Kensington Gardens, and now they were the best of friends.

What could she lose if she tried?

She blew the candle off and tried to sleep for a while. Would it be another night of insomnia? She hoped not, as the next day she had to get up very early in the morning... Only time could tell...

SAME NIGHT; A ROOM IN THE DIEU HOTEL, NEAR THE OPERA POPULAIRE.3:55 A.M.

Tony read the letter and smiled. It was rewarding to know that his reputation had preceded him to Paris. Interesting, also that she had seen him in Barcelona. That in itself, proved more than anything else could have, that she was sincere in her desire to have him as a guest in her school.

Dearest Madame Depreaux;

I have received your letter and firstly allow me to thank you for your generous compliments. It is gratifying to know that you have appreciated my performances so much, but I must also add that a performance is only as good as its musicians and I have had the opportunity to work with some of the finest in the world.

Due to my current schedule, it would be easier to invite you to introduce yourself to me in person after one of the performances. Please feel free to make your way down to the pit after one of the operas and I will be happy to speak with you then.

I am honoured that you have considered having me as a guest in your school and would be delighted to address your students by answering any questions they may have as well as aiding them, as much as I am able, in their studies.

It does my heart good to know that there are many out there who still seek the Arts as a lifestyle choice, for it can be very difficult at times and takes sincere dedication, as I am certain you are aware. For me, there is nothing in this world more valuable than music and I trust, as a teacher, you feel the same way.

So, I am pleased by your offer and look forward to making your acquaintance as soon as you are able.

Sincerely,

Tony Batistelli

NEXT EVENING, PAST MIDNIGHT. BOX TEN IN THE GARNIER OPERA HOUSE.

Ivy finished reading the letter again, glad to know it was good news from Maestro Batistelli. He had been very kind to invite her to introduce directly after a performance, and she was sure she wouldn´t take his words for granted. But how would she do it? It seemed easy, just to say 'Hello, I want you to visit my school', but rules always said it´s not good to be so straightforward, even to a musician. Fortunately, _Le Mirage_ was acquiring quite a lot of prestige and Ivy was sure that would help her.

She came out from her box and stopped an usherette.

"_Can I help you, madam?"_

"_Indeed"_, she said, _"could you please tell me the way to get down to the orchestra pit?"_

"_Oh, yes," _she answered, _"go straight to the corridor and then open the second door on your right."_

It seemed to her the pit entrance was very far from where she had asked the usherette. Her heart was pounding strongly, but she made her way confidently while her shoes were tapping quickly. She took a deep breath before opening the door. She was very nervous, but she hadn´t time to think why. She came into the pit and looked for the Maestro. The rest of the musicians were going out from the pit, each and every of them looking glad to have performed another night in the opera. She immediately recognised Batistelli. He was moving slowly, as if he didn´t want to leave the stage. She came near and coughed before talking,

"_Good night, Maestro", _she said, handling her introduction card to him, _"may I have a couple of words with you?"_

Tony had been lost in thought; a strange combination of excitement and relief. The performance had gone very well and he was proud of his musicians. He had sensed their earnest desire to do their best and was ever thankful for the rapport which had developed so quickly between them and their new conductor.

A lady's soft and refined voice broke into his reverie. Turning around, Tony caught sight of a pair of lovely deep blue eyes. Bowing slightly, he smiled at the woman as he took her card. The lady's name, of course, was familiar as was the title of the school she represented. _Le Mirage_ was becoming quite noted in the city as was Madame Depreaux's dedication to her students.

Taking up her hand, he placed a kiss upon the back of it before addressing her.

_"Good evening, Madame. I am delighted at the chance to meet the lady who wrote such pleasing words about me, you are far too kind. And, I was equally delighted to learn that you had seen me in Barcelona. "_As he spoke, Tony released the lady's hand and motioned toward one of the empty seats. _"Please, make yourself comfortable, Madame. What may I do for you?"_

Ivy smiled broadly and sat down as she looked directly to the musician´s brown eyes. He seemed to be pleased with her decision of visiting him at the pit, and was quite amazed to know she had seen him performing in Barcelona. Yet, part of her noticed that he was also a handsome man; Wills would have told her so. And she remembered him. Not his face exactly, but his music. She would have given everything she had that night, in Barcelona, such a long time ago, it seemed, to dance to that piano… and perhaps, just perhaps, to be the one inspiring the music the pianist performed.

_"You may remember my letter, Maestro", _she stopped just for an instant, measuring what she was about to say, _"in which I mentioned an offer to visit my school. Your generous and kind answer has moved me to repeat my invitation face to face, as you understood exactly what my purpose and intentions were."_ Ivy looked then at his face, attentively listening to her words, she took a deep breath and continued_, "I am wondering if you won´t find any problem in considering my offer any time next week... I´m sure you could find a moment to honour me with your presence at Le Mirage..."_ She wanted to add 'please', but she didn´t, not want to sound too anxious. There was still a possibility for a negative; he was a very busy man...

_"I will, of course, have to check my schedule, but I should be able to find some free time next week. If you wish it, Madame, we can go to my office straight away and I can check my calendar. Or, I can let you know of my schedule later via messenger. I will also need to know if you wish, at that time, for me to merely visit the school. Or, perhaps you have something else in mind; such as wishing me to speak to your students about a particular subject? If you do wish me to address your pupils, I will need to know which topic you want me to lecture on."_

Tony was curious to discover the type of school she was running. There were, often times, a lack of good teachers. Listening to the sound of her voice; the sincerity, he believed that _Le Mirage_ was certain to be an asset to the city.

_"I am honoured to hear these words from you, Maestro", _Ivy answered, undoubtedly pleased with what he had just told her_, "and I´m sure my students will be glad to meet a real musician in person. It´s not my style to organise a visit to my school without trying to get a profit for my students; but they are used to hard work and would love to show the best of them. The idea of a lecture on your part is excellent, Maestro, they would be impressed to be taught, at least once, by someone different from me, and I positively know there are some students who will give the experience a very good use. We are dedicating this month´s sessions to find out the different ways of expressing through different subjects what we feel about love and inspiration and how musicians and writers can talk about it. Some of my drama and music students are insecure when they are told to express themselves, they feel embarrassed and shy if they have to perform in public, so it would be an outstanding idea to tell them your experiences or even show them with a performance on your part. That´s the method I normally use, I get bored with theory lessons, Maestro", _she finally added,_ "but, of course, you are free to do it your way and a simple lecture will also be useful. Anytime next week will be perfect, just send me a messenger if you want to, but it would be useful for me to know the exact date for the meeting..."_

Tony nodded his head as the lady spoke. She seemed to have the desire to teach her students beyond the standard limits of typical musical composition and to urge them to explore other aspects; to understand theory but then allow themselves to take what they have learned and make it personal and unique, as all Art should be.

_"I am privileged, Madame,"_ the maestro replied sincerely. _"It will be my great pleasure to try and assist your students with overcoming insecurity and shyness. Those are, without doubt, the two most difficult obstacles to defeat when performing."_

As Tony spoke, he came gracefully to his feet. If one did not know better, he could have been mistaken for a dancer, so elegant and refined were his movements.

He extended his hand forward offering his assistance as Ivy came to her feet as well. The hour was growing late and he did not wish to detain her any further.

_"Until then, Madame."_ He bowed stylishly, again placing a cordial kiss upon her hand. _"As soon as I study my schedule, I shall call for a messenger to inform you of the exact date in which I shall be able to visit your fine school. In the meantime_," he offered her his arm, _"if you do not have a carriage waiting, would you allow me to escort you home? Or at least,"_ he added with a generous smile, _"allow me to escort you from the building."_

She did not expect that, not for a second. Yes, it was true. Ivy had told Armand he wouldn´t be needed. She had planned a walk home to try to relax, she had suffered two nights of terrible insomnia and maybe walking home could make her sleep. She wondered then if it was just her mood, but she felt comfortable in the musician´s company. He was kind and sincere; although Ivy felt a bit embarrassed. His music had known her that night in Barcelona. And for a second, just for an instant, Ivy wondered if he had the same power...

_"I´ve told my coachman not to wait for me tonight, Maestro. "_, she answered, "_I live a short walk away, in La Madeleine, so I had planned a short walk for my way back home. So it will be a pleasure to be escorted by you if you want to. Maybe it would be an opportunity to satisfy your curiosity about my teaching methods..."_

Tony smiled down upon the lady. He enjoyed her company for she was one of those rare persons who immediately put another at ease. Her companionship was comfortable and relaxing; extremely good traits for a teacher.

_"Then, we shall walk together," _he replied smoothly. _"I take pleasure in any opportunity for a nice leisurely stroll. Hiking is one of my favourite pastimes and unfortunately one that I have not been able to devote any time to since leaving Barcelona. However, I can think of nothing finer than to take a walk with a beautiful woman upon my arm."_

After carefully guiding his companion from the backstage area, they proceeded to cross in front of the stage and along the gently sloping floor of the auditorium and towards the doors.

_"I have not found a place to reside in the city as yet," _he explained as they continued along. _"So I have taken a room in one of the hotels not far from here. The hotel is close to the opera and yet far enough away so at to allow me the chance to unwind after a performance. Nothing relaxes me quite as much as a soothing walk. When we step outside, Madame, I shall need your instruction as to where you reside. I am still very new to the city and I am afraid that I do not know where La Madeleine is situated."_

He was silent for a fraction of a moment; the evening's presentation playing back through his mind.

_"Tell me, Madame."_ He asked as they neared the doors of the auditorium. _"Did tonight's performance please you?"_

The night was bright and silent in Paris, a warm breeze coming from the river and the full moon changing the shape of the city into thousand of shadowy silver shades. Lights were going down, every colour fading, painting the streets with thousand of different greys. Ivy took the main route to La Madeleine, going round the park near the river. It was not the quickest route, but no doubt it was the most pleasant one.

"_Oh yes!"_, she could not help it, there were many years since she last attended to the Opera herself and she had savoured each and every second of the concert, _"_ _I always enjoy every night in the Opera, Maestro"_, she softly answered while guiding him to the river bend walk, _"music has always had a strange power in me. Tonight your orchestra has been inspiring; I felt I was a little girl again coming to my first opera performance. It´s easy to get inspired when you give yourself up to the melody and really touch each and every note you hear. I´m sure this feeling is not strange for you at all..."_

He smiled gently at her gracious compliment as they continued their tranquil stroll beside the glistening water.

_"The finest goal of any music is to touch someone, Madame and it pleases me discover that you were enthused this evening." _The evening air, however, had grown somewhat chill and Tony paused slightly. _"You must not catch cold, Madame. If you will allow me." _

Before she could reply, he gallantly removed his cloak and fastened it about her shoulders, again offering her his arm as they moved forward once more.

_"Music has been a part of my family for generations,"_ he explained. _"I can think of no better way to reach others with hope and love as well as to share their sorrows by showing them that they are not alone in what they feel. We can express so much more through music that we might otherwise not be brave enough to say. And, you are correct, Madame. That feeling is not strange for me; not at all. In fact, it is all I have known almost from the moment I was born."_

A tender breeze caressed them, and Tony lifted his head slightly, allowing the wind to move across his features. It reminded him of times past; of brisk hikes in the mountains; of similar walks along the beach. He was thankful that this lady had come to him tonight; thankful for the opportunity to once more walk the brisk evening with a woman upon his arm. It had been much too long since he had allowed himself this pleasure.

Turning back to his companion, he added,

_"But enough about me," _his smile again lit up his features_. "Please, do tell me about yourself, Madame. Have you always had a love of music? What events led up to the opening of your fine school?"_

The contact of the material on her skin made her shiver. Ivy did not like to be touched, by anyone, and normally she did not let any man go so far. It was not her style to let anyone escort her home. But he was especial; he had proved so. By means of his music.

"_Music was my first love, Maestro",_ Ivy answered then, looking into his eyes as she pronounced the words, _"and it will be my last. But, to be honest, I never thought about becoming what I am now, although I was brought up surrounded by Art. I was used to watching others play, sing, dance or act from my box in the Opera, but I always wanted to be a part of the theatre world and learn how to speak the actors´ language. Unfortunately, no woman coming from a wealthy family is allowed "to live" as an actress, so I tried to accept, forget about my childhood dreams and play my role..."_

She stopped for a moment, staring at the water surface. She got absent, it was a painful to tell, but somehow, she wanted to do it. Then, she recalled that night in Barcelona again, when his music had struck her, talking the right words at the right time. Only Wills had been able to tell similar words to her soul, the moment she heard him sing in Kensington Gardens and his voice had comforted her as much as the Maestro had done years before... it was just fair to be that true...

"_From that time I only preserve six years of solitude and lies"_, Ivy continued,_" but acting changed my life the moment I entered the stage world. I learnt that only artists can see life the way it really is"¸ _she smiled gently and lead her companion across the bridge, _"and then I became an actress myself and promised to return to Paris and do something productive with all the things I had learnt about the theatre business. This is the reason why I founded the school, and, although it has been very difficult, I finally reached my goal and now I find life has a new meaning to me..."_

_"I must agree with you, Madame," _he began; considering her words carefully. _"Only those with the soul of an artist can truly see life; live life as it was meant to be. And even so, one does not necessarily have to earn their living as an artiste to have the artist's soul. I have known some patrons in the past; devout supporters of the Arts, who had absolutely no true artistic talent, yet they had a deep appreciation for music or for sculpture; anything which others had created in an effort to 'speak' to the world.__Although, I must also profess, that such people are rare, particularly among the aristocracy. That is why I am so delighted to make the acquaintance of someone such as yourself."_

Tony recalled, a bit forlornly, the friends he had left behind. Such was his life in the career he had chosen; where travel was a frequent thing and he often had to say adieu to those he had come to love. It was truly the only downside of the life he had chosen.

He understood what she had said about wealth and how she would not have been permitted to become an actress. There had been many times where he sat, by invitation, at the tables of some of the wealthiest families in the world.

Yet, he was ever aware that only his status as a noted conductor earned him that privilege. He would have never been accepted for the man he was, by those very ones he sat with, had he held what they would have considered a lesser position.

_"I find the world extremely unfair at times," _he continued softly. _"It is particularly so for women and those who are considered 'lower class.' So, I admire you greatly, Madame. You could have chosen to ignore your dreams, in the face of family displeasure, but you did not.__But, if I may ask... what of your family now? Have they accepted your choices?"  
_  
Family was very dear to the conductor. He understood how painful it could be for her if she had been renounced by her own people.

"_My family…"_, Ivy enjoyed pronouncing the word and repeated it quite sadly. Then she smiled distractedly with her eyes fixed on the full moon, _"Le Mirage is my family. I don´t have any relatives alive"_, she explained, _"my parents died ten years ago and I am an only child" _, she paused for an instant, she couldn´t help feeling the same strange oppression on her chest each time she thought about Adrian, _"my students are my family"_, she stated, a bit sadly, _"I would give anything for them…"_

Her face stood absent for a fraction of a moment, but then, it changed completely, brushing her thoughts away.

"_Forgive me, Maestro"_, she softly went on, _"it´s not my intention to ruin our walk with such a sad story…"_

_"There is nothing -to- forgive, Madame. It is I who must apologize, for I did not intend_ _my question to stir distressing memories for you. And nothing,"_ he continued kindly, _"could ruin this walk; not with such an enchanting companion by my side."_

He too was silent now; staring at the dark reflection of the river's surface. Her hand still lay upon his arm and he reached over and gave her arm a reassuring grasp.

_"If there is one thing I have learned; it is to live without regret. Although certainly that is a difficult thing to achieve. We must all live with the choices we have made and be happy with those decisions regardless of how others may feel." _Tony turned to face his companion. He smiled upon her, hoping to lighten the mood, _ "but you've started a new life for yourself. A life, I hope, that will bring you contentment, happiness and joy."_

The conductor carefully guided her along the river's edge as their walk continued.

_"I fear, however, that I may be keeping you out longer than you may be accustomed to. For that, you must forgive me. Still, allow me to add that this has been a most delightful stroll and I have not enjoyed such pleasurable companionship in many months."_

"_I am used to ending my day very late, even though tomorrow I do have to teach fencing lessons very early in the morning. But believe me Maestro ,"_, she sincerely answered, _"I am very glad to have this opportunity and meet you in person. You are what your music shows, exactly what I thought you were the first time I heard you playing. It´s always a pleasure to have a relaxed conversation with someone you seem to get on well with and enjoy a tranquil stroll. I only hope tonight won´t be the last one we can share walks... now you owe me a visit to Le Mirage..."_

Tony laughed lightly.

_"I have not forgotten, Madame. And I must admit that I would take pleasure in observing as you teach fencing. It is a particular hobby of mine and I am most impressed to discover a woman who teaches the art. It is most rare, but then again, you are proving to be a wonderfully unique person whom I am coming to admire more and more. I can also promise you that, should you wish it, we shall share more such agreeable strolls in the moonlight."_

As they reached Ivy's home, he escorted her carefully up the stairs and stood with her by the door.

_"It has been my pleasure,"_ he took her hand; placing a gentle kiss upon it and waited until she was safely indoors.

SIMULTANEOUSLY. LA MADELEINE STREET NUMBER THREE, TWO MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT .

"Dawn"

The room was absolutely dark when he woke up and the air was oppressive. So much that he could hardly breathe. He coughed, and went straight for the bottle of whisky. He had run out of it the night before. The bottle smashed into pieces when he furiously threw it against the floor. The man looked at his hands; they were trembling, for it was really cozy inside the room. Finally, he had decided not to go home. Not yet. Not until he found her, and took her with him.

He had the right, yes. She was his, no matter what the stupid laws would say. He should never have left her play that way. Yes, because it was stupid, as much as she had loved it. It had to finish, and he swore, he would put an end to it. Whether she liked it or not.

It tortured him, the voice, the ghostly voice inside his mind. There was no way to stop that awful voice, screaming inside, making him wonder what was real and what was not. The voice, always that voice…

WHAT IS SHE DOING NOW?

WHO IS SHE DATING THIS INSTANT?

NOW, WHO? No one, She´s seeing no one. She knows I won´t let her place her eyes on another man.

REALLY?

HOW MANY MEN WOULD HAVE HAD HER BY NOW?

He could name many, the voice told him.

Unbearable. It was simply unbearable. More than the pain of a coughing fit, more bitter than the taste of a blood spittle. He closed his eyes, and drank more whisky in one single gulp, and a wicked smile came from his lips. He had a plan to stop it.

Meticulously, he took the pair of scissors he had saved with him, the ones he had always used. It was exciting, he thought, as he began cutting his own hair, it had also been cutting hers while she slept, the red curls falling down on the floor, and all around the satin pillow. He could take her beauty away, and then she would not go. The whore would not dare do it again.

Then he began shaving his head, slowly, enjoying the feeling of his hands using the shave knife. How would it be, using it with her flesh? Would that excite him?

Blood. He hated blood. Its smell, its taste… it hurt and he stirred, when he cut a deep line on his cheek and the blood came out. Warm blood. Wet blood. But yes, the voice had been right.

Using a towel, he stopped the bleeding and sewed the wound. It was perfect, the voice said when he looked at his face in the mirror. And even more perfect with an eye patch. He would fool them up. He went out from the room. On his way to meet her.

He had been observing them, hidden in the shadows he had walked following their path. Following her and the tall man. He had not done it since that night in London, when he had finally dared going to the Murphy´s theatre, where she performed that night.

And tonight, he had seen her differently.

She was different. Changed.

He had known she had locked herself inside her parent´s house, playing that stupid game of owning an Arts School and moulding new talents. It was fine with him, he had thought, she had understood the message he had sent her in London.

…Think Eve, you married me… behave, or everything you love will perish under my heel…

Make yourself known and your world will be shattered.

And three years had passed; she had returned to France, but no one in Paris had seen her at parties, ball dances or performances. She had retired from the world outside, but years have not passed, he had thought when he saw her first. She looked even more beautiful and enchanting in her black nightdress, shining like a diamond in the dark. She had not lost a bit of her natural glamour throughout the years, the glow which had always made him want her.

Without being noticed, Adrian had waited for her to go out from the Opera building; he had expected her to take her coach home after the performance… but she had delayed. Adrian had waited, hidden in the dark, and as time passed he had got more and more anxious to see her again.

But she was not alone. There was a man walking next to her, touching her, grabbing her arm… and he found himself wondering WHO had dared escorting HIS WIFE. It was obvious she was enjoying the man´s company, she smiled, she even laughed lightly once or twice. But he? Was he really enjoying her?

Were they dating?

A man that´s not a man can´t have his own woman, she had told him.

Adrian smiled wickedly, the moment that tall stranger placed a kiss upon his wife´s hand, perhaps promising to see her again. He could wait until she was safely indoors, yes, it did not matter to him.

Ivy would come back to his side.

She would do it willingly. Or by his force.

-END OF CHAPTER FIVE- (more soon)


	6. Chapter 6 Le Mirage

CHAPTER THREE: "Le Mirage"

**CHAPTER SIX: **_**"Le Mirage"**_

The brass of the horses' harness shown brightly in the late morning sun, as the carriage made its way towards **_Le Mirage_****.** Tony took advantage of these few moments of silence to relax and clear his mind. He wanted to be at his best for this meeting with the students and their delightful instructor.

His thoughts drifted easily to the things he would discuss and the possible questions the students may have. He hoped that he would be thorough and precise with them, for he was not a teacher and unused to the methods an instructor might employ, yet he was honoured by this invitation and disposed to do his best for the school.

The hansom cab soon came to a halt and Tony exited the conveyance, glancing up at the structure before him. It was a charming two story building made of marble and white stone and seemed a place in which one would feel exceedingly comfortable. He proceeded forward through a wonderful garden of white roses mingled among classic Greek statues. The scent of the flowers encircled him and he paused to bend forward, feeling the soft petals of one perfect rose, before making his way towards the school's entrance.

Tony sighed deeply. The site was ideal for an arts school; it conveyed peace and silent communication, for every little detail he observed had been carefully planned and designed in the name and on behalf of Arts. And, as he strolled through the beautiful gardens, he realised Le Mirage was also the perfect reflection of the woman who had founded it and the thoughts she had transmitted him during their walk some nights before.

Music was my first love, and it will be my last, she had told him. Tony was intrigued by these words coming from an undoubtedly beautiful lady. How could it be, that a woman of her beauty was not part of the night life in Paris? She had told him her only interest was this school, this building where she had certainly stored all her life and her efforts. Yes, there had to be someone in this lady´s heart, no doubt.

The contrary was simply impossible.

Upon opening the door, Tony found that he had entered a Great Hall. The theme of this area reflected the garden for it also was decorated in white along with red velvet. His eyes immediately drifted upwards to a huge chandelier which would be even more spectacular, he knew, when lit.

After taking in the lovely view, the conductor glanced around the area, waiting until someone would discover his presence. A maid appeared in the hall then and greeted the conductor.

"_Good afternoon, monsieur. If you are so kind to follow me, I´ll lead you to the fencing room. Madame is waiting for you there…"_

The classroom door was half open when they got there. The mirrored wall reflected what was happening inside and Ivy´s voice could be heard in the corridor.

"_Any doubt, Louis?"_, a moment of silence and then she went on, _"OK, let´s practise the last movement again. This time I´ll fight against you… Ready? On guard!!_

The boy started stopping Ivy´s attack in two movements and then he seemed unsure to go on. He realised there was someone else outside the room, watching the fight. Ivy hit his sword and disarmed him.

"_No!"_, she stopped him sternly, _"Concentrate Louis! What´s wrong with you today?"_

"_It´s just, Madame…"_, he apologised, _"I can´t… I can´t do it…"_

"_You __**can´t**__ say you can, this is the problem…"_ Ivy sighed deeply and faced her student again. She put her fingers on the tip of Louis´sword and looked at him again.

"_My eyes are here, Louis"_, she pointed emphatically, _"where are yours?"_

"_On your forehead, Madame…"_

"_This is where they should be, monsieur Nouveaux"_, she answered coldly, _"but they are not. Only God knows where you and your eyes are today…"_

Louis lowered his head, embarrassed to hear such a hard telling off. Ivy sighted. The boy couldn´t say a word.

"_We´ll try once again, but I won´t move until you attack. On guard!"_

This time, Louis first movement was quicker and harder. Ivy stopped the thrust and smiled.

"_Good!"_, she encouraged him, _"Don´t stop looking at me!"_

They went on, blades striking, moving all around the room. Ivy moved towards her student as the attacks became bolder and smiled conspicuously.

"_Fight me, Louis!"_

He tried to defend himself, but she moved her foil energetically, although carefully calculating.

"_Keep doing this way and I´ll win hands down!"_, she challenged. Louis turned around, moving his foil trying to find her weak point then. Louis was quicker this time and the tip of his sword rubbed slightly against Ivy´s cheek. Louis suddenly stopped the fight.

"_Are you all right, Madame?"_, he asked in a whisper, frightened to have hurt her

"No, no, it´s OK, don´t worry. It´s just a scratch…"

She touched her cheek. Just a scratch, she thought, but it hurt…

"_Enough for today, the class is over."_

Tony observed silently from the doorway. He approved of the way Madame Depreaux taught. Her methods were concise and she demanded precision. Indeed, perfection was the greatest goal in the art of fencing. Had this student, Louis been in an actual duel, he would have been dead by now. As it was, Ivy also showed a considerable amount of patience in her training and, with this youth, it appeared she would need it.

The conductor had hoped his presence was not a distraction to the boy; however that was also something the young student must learn to guard against. He must watch his opponent carefully, yet still be aware of what was going on around him. When taking up a weapon, a man had to be prepared to use that weapon; to have all the knowledge and skill required and to respect the object he held in his hands; to realize that what he possessed was not a toy.

Upon hearing the boy's anxious remark, Tony quickly entered the room. Louis was apologizing for leaving a mark upon his instructor's cheek.

Ignoring the boy, Tony promptly approached Ivy and examined her countenance. There was a slight trickle of blood, which he carefully wiped away with a corner of his handkerchief.

_"If you will forgive me, Madame,"_ he replied softly so that the class would not hear, _"I would recommend that you wear a mask when practicing. You must see to it that you protect yourself."_

She lowered her eyes as he carefully wiped the blood away from her cheek.

"_You are right",_ she agreed in a whisper, _"I prefer looking at my opponent right to the eyes.."_

"_It´s been my fault, Madame"_, Louis remarked, _"I…"_

She turned to her student.

"_You´ve been as passionate as you are in drama, Louis, for the first time in two years. So don´t apologise, just remember this emotion and use it on stage…"_

The boy´s face relaxed. He had understood. His teacher was really proud of the way he had fought but she would never say so. She never did.

"I´ll go and get things ready in the stage room, Madame…"

He meant to leave the room, but Ivy stopped him.

"One more thing before you go, Louis: Is your Snow Maiden ready to see the light?", she asked then.

"_Yes, indeed"_, she answered, _"Dick will help me with the reading."_

"_Good decision…"_

Then, there was a moment of silence. Ivy watched Louis leave the room and kindly smiled to Tony.

"_I´m glad to see you´re a man of word, Maestro. Welcome to Le Mirage…"_

_"It is my distinct pleasure to be here, Madame."_

The conductor glanced around the room, pleased by all he had seen, before turning back to continue his conversation with Ivy.

"_Le Mirage_,_" _he added earnestly, _"is everything I expected and more. I was delighted by the garden, Madame. It is very welcoming and restful and the building itself is charming. You could not have chosen a better location for such a fine school as this and I am proud to have been invited to take a small part in your endeavours."_

Tony had also watched as Louis left the room.

_"Your students are exceptionally fond of you. You were very understanding, yet firm with that boy. I must say that your techniques impress me_._ So, Madame," _he smiled over at her. _"Shall we begin our tour? Or," _he laughed lightly, _"would you care to tell me what or -who- this 'Snow Maiden' is?_

_"There´s not so much mystery about the Snow Maiden, Maestro"_, Ivy replied, _"I told my students you were coming and some of them have tried things on their own to perform today. Louis is a very talented short story writer", _she explained, _"and he´s always willing to share his works in events like this one. The Snow Maiden is his latest story. I haven´t had time to revise it, but I think he doesn´t need my aid anymore. But all in good time, Maestro. If you would care to follow me, we´ll start our tour while everything is arranged upstairs..."_

Ivy led Tony out of the class and closed the door. She guided him to the next door on their right and, when opening, an inscription could be read on the white wooden door: "Reading is the hardest profession in the world".

_"This house belonged to my parents", _Ivy explained when entering the room, _"and I got it redecorated when the school was first open. But this library has been here as long as I can remember. It still needs quite a lot of details, for the atmosphere is quite oppressing during the summer and freezing in winter. But the real treasure here are the books"_, she said proudly, _"they were all my mother´s, who found strong pleasure in reading. I took this hobby from her, and some day, I expect to turn this room into a real comfortable library..."_

Tony entered the library, pausing to run his fingertips carefully along some of the books which had been meticulously placed among the shelves.

_"Reading is a great pleasure of mine, although I find that I do not have the time to enjoy it as I used to."_

He continued his exploration of the room and although he realized what she was saying, how the room could be stifling in the summer, he also felt it could be quite cozy in the wintertime.

After viewing the area, he turned to Ivy with a courteous smile upon his features.

_"I have one request of you, Madame and that is that you call me Tony. Maestro is a title I hear often enough," _he grinned,_ "and although I am very proud to carry the designation, it is much too formal for friends and I would like to consider you and me as friends, if you wish it."_

He awaited her reply, as well as the continuation of his tour and most of all; he looked forward to meeting with the rest of her students.

"_I would be an honour if you consider me that way, Tony"_ she answered, quite embarrassed, but very pleased by the conductor´s requirement, placing the exact emphasis in the last word, _"I´d like you to be like home, so then let´s forgive formal addressings. You can call me Ivy."_

Suddenly, a melody started to be played in the music room, its notes filling the whole school with wonderful chords. The moment she identified it, Ivy´s eyes lightened up with delight and surprise, as if she had understood what the music was announcing.

"_I´m afraid we have to change slightly our schedule for the tour_"_, _she said quickly,_ "There´s a person I want you to meet: the man who taught me all I know about the performing Arts…"_

She stepped up to the music room and opened the door. There, there was a black haired man sitting at the piano, wearing a casual suit, his luggage placed next to the door. He was playing a really inspiring song. The moment Ivy saw him, she placed her palms on either side of her cheek in surprise and amazement and raced towards him. The man smiled broadly without stopping his music as Ivy began to sing for him…

From the moment he heard the first bars, Tony had been amazed at the marvellous sound which flowed from the piano in the other room. Knowing, of course, that he was visiting a school, he had not been prepared to hear a student do so well. The notes were played perfectly and with a tremendous amount of passion; a combination that one did not hear often.

The conductor also noted the glow which lit up Ivy's features as well as the excited joy in her voice. Who ever was playing the piano, was not only unusually talented, but also someone very important to his new friend. He gladly followed her into the music room, wishing to meet this person as well.

"_We always seemed to be sister and brother_

_it´s such a lovely way to be_

_I wrote this song to say what it means to me_

_I, I could never be the same without you_

_If I can´t fly you´re my wings_

_You´re the voice when I sing_

_Now´s the moment of showing_

_the way I know I really feel about you,_

_the way I know I´ll always be around you_

_Why can´t we…? Why can´t we…?_

_Why can´t we try…?_

Now, Tony leaned his tall form against the door jam, relaxing as he shut his eyes and allowed the sound of their mingled voices to flow throughout the room. It was obvious, simply from the way they sang, that something special existed between them, for their voices were completely relaxed and comfortable together, evoking a wonderfully flowing sound.

Her voice sounded so sweet and joyful, Ivy hugged Wills tightly when he joined the song…

… _to play our own scene?_

_We just need to be ourselves_

_To play our own scene_

_Where we show how much we care_

_We could find a way to start_

_And play it from the heart_

_Our perfect scene from a play unknown_

_Let´s play our own scene_

_Of our own…"_

Both voices filled the room in perfect harmony, melting completely in that improvised duet, glancing at each other as they sang for one another. Ivy felt a deep emotion when they finished singing and she could finally embrace her friend.

"_Oh, Wills!",_ she cried out, her eyes nearly filled with tears of joy, _"You´re here! You are really here! I can´t believe my eyes!"_

"_Well, they are not wrong, it´s me",_ Wills replied, smiling broadly, _"of flesh and blood, Wills Murphy at your service, my love",_ he added making a graceful bow which made Ivy laugh and enfold him again.

"_But, when…? How…? Why?"_

"_Too many questions to answer in too little time, my dearest",_ he answered, _"it was too sad to think you had probably met some other young man and forgot all about me…"_

"_I also thought you had probably met some other young man and forgot all about me…"_

"_Oh, yes, very funny…"_

Ivy looked into his dark eyes and thought how good it was to see Wills again.

"_You´ll never know how much I´ve missed you…"_

He smiled in return, taking up her hands.

"_I know, I know. That´s why I´m here. To stay, if you want to…"_

"_To stay?",_ Ivy replied in amazement, _"but I thought you were on a tour in Germany…"_

"_I got tired of that boring Faust,"_, he replied, _"too boring since my brother is playing his husband role. Things on stage will never be the same without you, dearest, so I thought over your proposal about being your drama teacher full time, as long as you still want me…"_

"_You perfectly know you´ll always be welcome here, Wills"¸_ Ivy then glanced to Tony, _Tony, allow me to introduce you to my former drama and music teacher and best friend William Murphy…Wills"_, she continued with the introductions, _"this is Antonius Batistelli, new conductor for the Garnier Opera House…"_

Of course, William Murphy was one of the best actors in Europe at that time, and none of the others in the room noticed the thoughts which crossed his mind, as quick as a lightning.

Antonius Batistelli. Where had he heard this name before?

Yes, it had been Ivy. She had mentioned him, many times, during their training in London. She had even tried to perform one of his nocturnes in one of their first piano lessons, and she had put, Wills remembered, her very soul in it. This man was someone his friend had admired from long ago, from the times where Ivy had simply been a lady locked in a golden cage, unhappy and alone. Once, she had heard him play in Barcelona. And his music still ran through her veins…

Wills smiled lightly and shook the conductor´s hand.

"_I have heard much about you"_, he could not help these words, even knowing Ivy would blush, as she did, _"Yes, it´s indeed a pleasure." _

Tony smiled warmly as he greeted the other man. His instincts had been correct; this was not a student, but a teacher and someone whom Ivy obviously adored. He enjoyed their openness with each other; the way their conversation flowed so generously. There was nothing forced or strained about their relationship. But part of him wondered whether this handsome actor was more than a former teacher for Ivy. Perhaps he was the owner of her heart, he thought for a second. He seemed a nice man, someone who would treat Ivy kindly… then why that sad look in her eyes, the one Tony had noticed as they crossed the Seine? Why had she said her heart was only filled by the love for music?

_"My sincere honour to meet you, as well monsieur." _ The conductor replied earnestly. _"Allow me to also remark how much I enjoyed your playing. It is not often I hear one so accomplished."_

Before the other could reply, a rapping sound interrupted them.

Then, someone knocked the door of the class. It was a red haired girl, who came in when she heard Ivy´s voice responding.

"_Everything´s ready in the stage room, Madame."_

"_Thank you, Veronique. Tell them we won´t delay."_

"_Oh, 'madame'!",_ Wills exclaimed playfully when the student was gone, _" How firm you are with your students Ivy! You never called me ' sir'!"_

"_You never allowed me to",_ she answered laughing, _"Sorry, but I have to leave you. I need to change my clothes… You are in the best of companies…"_

"_Hope to see you on stage today, dear!",_ Wills waved her goodbye, _"Break a leg!"_

When she closed the door, Wills thought about his friend again and smiled to himself. Ivy seemed happy, really happy to be doing what she had longed to do for quite a long time. It was s good sign to see her that way after all she´d been trying for three years. He already knew Ivy, and was sure she had been preparing something especial for her students and was ready to dance for them. But, however, he couldn´t put a slight cloud out of his thoughts about Ivy. He had seen something strange on her, something he couldn´t define in her dark blue eyes…

"_Have you known her for long?"_, Wills asked to break the ice when they got alone.

_"Not long,"_ Tony replied, as he, with a wave of his arm, invited Wills to reclaim the seat he had vacated. _"Although,"_ the conductor continued, pulling up a chair of his own, _"I have known her long enough to realize what a special person she is. I have only been in the city for a few days having recently accepted a position in the Paris Opera. Ivy was kind enough to invite me here to her school. I am pleased to hear that you will be drama teacher for the school. You've made Ivy one very happy person_," Tony grinned. He too, had noted, from time to time, a certain sadness in Ivy's eyes, although she tried hard to prevent anyone from seeing it. Yet, there were brief moments when he could discern an underlying sorrow. He hoped that being reunited with her dear friend might perhaps chase some of that sadness away.

_"Perhaps," _he turned his attention back to Wills_, "I may be able to persuade you to perform at the opera, as a special guest, monsieur. I know that the audience would be grateful for the opportunity to hear you play.__Do you play any other instruments, monsieur or solely piano?" _ He inquired politely.

Wills looked around and remembered the last time he had been visiting Le Mirage. Eight months ago, the music room was still unfinished, papers lying untidy and walls recently painted. Things had changed in Le Mirage, and he was very glad to see it in person. He wondered if his friend had also changed with the school. She looked tired, and Wills was worried.

"_Only the piano, but I´m always open to new offers."_, Wills answered, _" It´s quite a long time since I don´t play in my performances and I´ve never had the opportunity to do it so in the Garnier Opera House. But my friend"_, he went on, referring to Ivy, "_will be green with envy if she knows it, and kick me off from her school without having started my job..."_, he paused, and then added, _"It was a joke, forgive me. I´ll be very glad to be persuaded if you try hard once more..."_

Tony smiled at Wills' earlier comments about Ivy, understanding that those remarks were spoken in jest.

_"I hardly think she will kick you out," he replied lightly, "and I will most certainly keep trying until you agree to play at Garnier!"_

He liked that gentleman. Ivy had mentioned him quite a lot of times when she referred to the season she spent in Spain shortly after her unfortunate marriage, when she still was Baroness Eve. Wills knew Ivy wanted to meet him in person, she admired him because of something his music had woken up in Ivy´s heart, and knew she wanted to give him something in return.

"_Yes, there´s no one like Ivy. She´s unique, if I may say. I never thought about teaching anyone until I saw her, she´s so passionate, so full of strength and determination that sometimes she scares me. She´s got a strange power to fill the stage. Ivy is always surprising..."_

The conductor enjoyed the ease he felt in this man's presence. It was not unlike the straightforwardness he had also experienced when first meeting Ivy. These two, he knew, would certainly make _Le Mirage_ a brilliant success.

_"I've never taken on any students," _he admitted,_ "yet I can understand the enthusiasm you must have felt when instructing Ivy. There have been times when I have considered teaching, so who knows? Perhaps I shall try my hand at instruction one of these days. I do not know, however, if I would have the patience required. It would most certainly be a challenge.__I would also love to see Ivy audition for the opera, as an actress perhaps, but that is something she must decide. Or, as a vocalist, as well. I had no idea how fine her voice was until I heard your duet; although I can sometimes tell how a voice will sound merely by listening to someone speak.__I know assuredly that she would be a great asset to the opera house, as well."_

"_Well, I hope then you would be the right person to help me persuade Ivy to return to stage"_, Wills replied sincerely, _"really Tony, it is a pity someone as talented as Ivy locks here and does not show her skills professionally, as she once did. My brother and I were extremely happy to have her in our company when she finished her training in our school, but one day, she simply quitted…"_

"_Was there anything wrong, Wills… if I may ask?"_, Tony did not realised perhaps he had made an indiscretion until he had already mouthed his words aloud,. But, with each moment passing, he was becoming more and more curious about her.

"_Oh no, nothing as far as I know"_, Wills replied, _"Ivy is a very stubborn person, and one day she decided she wanted to return to Paris and transform her parent´s house into a performing arts institute. My brother David and I tried everything to make her stay, but she refused, so we have been there to help in any possible way. The stage lost a wonderful and talented artist, but the kids studying here gained an understanding and devoted teacher…"_

The conductor listened attentively, stretching his long legs out before him. He moved his thoughts to the way Wills had played his song with Ivy and wondered if he dared impose on such a new friendship.

"_I have so little time to perform"_, he continued after a moment, _"most of my time is taken up conducting and composing. I love my work, please, understand, yet sometimes miss the chance to play as often as I used to. there are just not enough hours a day. I wonder if you consider something", _he looked at Wills curiously, _"I have composed a concerto and while I, of course, have played while writing it, it would help me greatly to hear someone else play as I continue to work on the arrangement. This would give me a better… overall impression of how the piece is fitting together. Would such a task interest you?"_

"_Yes, of course I´m interested_, _how could I say no?_" Wills replied sincerely, _"What you offer is something I stopped doing several years ago, but I think it would be good for both in many senses. I´ve come to Paris to give myself the pleasure of doing all the things I left behind some years ago and it would also give us the opportunity to become friends. Just tell me when and where we start and I´ll help you as long as you needed me with that concerto…"_

It was with a tremendous amount of gratitude that Tony shook Wills' hand to seal the agreement they had just made.

_"Your assistance will be of great help to me and I appreciate your willingness to support my efforts. I have written scores before, but I am especially excited about this concerto. It is, if I may say in all modesty, the best I have written so far and I hope will develop into something fine enough to someday perform before an audience. May I play some of it for you now?"_

"_Oh, of course!", _he replied, _"I´d love to hear some of it…",_ Wills was deeply impressed by the straightforwardness with which Tony had made his suggestion and he made his friend a polite sign as he vacated the seat at the piano.He felt extremely curious about Ivy´s new friend and wanted to know him better. Only because Ivy did not offer her friendship and admiration so easily to any man.

Wills closed his eyes as the first bars of the conductor´s composition began to fill the air in the music room. As he always did, he closed his eyes, to let the piano speak, softly…

Night.

Breeze coming from the sea.

Wills could clearly feel the sound of the waves on a solitary beach, softly humming the main melody, while high pitched sounds mimicked the steps of someone entering the ocean.

The moon. The air.

He could swear the piano was telling someone´s story.

The story of Water… and a Lady…

"_This piece is extremely personal to me,"_, Tony humbly explained, _ "I am afraid it is not ready for an audience yet, but…"_

"_Oh not, all the contrary, my friend; you need no more changes, at least on this part. May I ask its title?"_

"_The Maid in the Water"_, Tony replied, _"it was not until I heard you play that I knew I had found the perfect pianist for the piece..."_ Yes, it was true. It took a special individual to stroke the keys with the amount of passion and sentiment the concerto contained.

"_It is decided then"_, Wills offered his hand friendly, _"I will help you polishing this; but Tony, I don´t think this piece is not ready to see the light yet. Perhaps it is too bold of me but… why don´t you suggest Ivy to perform part of it today, at the audition? Maybe this way we can both begin persuading her she has to reconsider her idea of leaving the stage…"_

Tony was overwhelmed by Wills suggestion. At least at first. He had never thought of 'The Maid in the Water' as a composition for a dance soloist. But… Ivy´s eyes were the colour of the sea… and, in some way, she reminded her to that lady he had seen, so long ago, sinking in the water…

Would she accept dancing for him?, he wondered that instant.

Meanwhile, in her dressing room, Ivy was looking at herself in the mirror, taking some minutes for herself as she always did before a class while she finished tying her hair in a tight knot. She had thought much about it, she had considered it carefully… but now that Wills had arrived, she could not deny herself the pleasure of dancing. Just this time; only in private, like old times, when she had felt free and young. She had left her black clothes aside for a day and now she was wearing a satin shiny blue ballet tutu, along with silky pointes. Wearing her ballet clothes, she looked transformed, she felt the ballerina she had always wanted to be… but would this not be too much? Would she not be crossing the line, being too bold, wanting too much?

Suddenly, as she finished the laces in her pointes, Ivy remembered Wills' words of encouragement…

'…you must finish what you started…'

Yes, she had to. She had dreamt, for a long time, of dancing to the chords of one of Batistelli´s compositions. Just like that night in Barcelona, when she was nothing by a girl, lost in the dark. Now she was strong, she had learnt to live on her own.

She was prepared to face Tony´s music… if only he accepted playing for her…

He could not finish ordering his thoughts after Will´s suggestion. Tony's face lit up in amazement and admiration as he glanced at Ivy entering the music room. She looked every bit the poised and confident ballerina, a vision no man in his right mind could not see as the perfect creation of Nature. Yes, Wills was right. Ivy could very well be his Maid in the Water….

_"Will you never fail to astonish me?"_ he asked with approval and wonder. _"I do believe that there is something you can -not- do." _He replied softly He reached forward and gently kissed the back of her hand. _"You look lovely, Ivy…"_, he cleared his throat, as he noticed Ivy getting red in the face; but that only made her look lovelier to his eyes, _"If they your students reflect their teacher then I am certain I shall adore them!" _

Ivy felt her cheeks burning, for she was caught completely off guard. She couldn´t help it. She was not prepared for that remark, not for a second. She was used to Wills´ compliments, for they were harmless, she would have ignored a compliment like this coming from any other gentleman, but this man was especial, exactly as she had imagined he would be. Just as his music had spoken of him, that night so long ago in Barcelona…Did a man, most importantly, did this man really think she was beautiful?

He was wrong. There was something she could –not- do.

But dance? Dance? She could… couldn´t she?

"_I have just told you Ivy is surprising, Tony"_, Wills remarked laughing lightly. He still loved making her feel embarrassed and then see how hard she tried to hide herself, _"She was once my student…"_

"_Let´s not make the students wait. They will be anxious to start. Here´s the planning", _Ivy said then, still embarrassed, trying to change the topic; she handed them both a carefully written schedule with the performances listed and addressed to Tony, _"We´ve been revising some steps for the creative process I´m sure you´re familiar with, so don´t be afraid, they won´t put you at any compromise, I hope. Let them ask you freely; just be comfortable…"_

Wills read the paper quickly. A detailed and carefully selected planning, as usual.There was one piece of work for each of the most important subjects taught in the school. But Ivy had just mentioned she was going to dance as well. Why hadn´t she included her name on the list?

"_I still depend on our guest to dance, Wills"_, she answered before being asked, to his surprise, _"I just couldn´t imagine you were coming…"_

"_It´s alright dear, "_ he replied, _" I´ll enjoy the same…"_

"_Will you accept playing for me, Tony?"_. She waited for his answer. She really wanted to perform with that music. She had always wanted so.

Her heart pounded loudly, so loud that she thought he would hear it. He would never know how important his answer was for her. This was her last dream. Her last illusion, perhaps come true…

_"I can assure you, Ivy, that nothing would please me more. Anything that I can do to help you or your class, Ivy. You do not even need to ask me. Simply tell me what you require and I will be happy to oblige."."_

Wills looked at her friend and smiled to himself. Somehow, he knew he would certainly enjoy being part of the audience in Le Mirage that day. Ivy seemed to be really inspired, more than ever... anything could happen on stage...

Ivy glanced to Wills and the rest of her guests, hoping they were all comfortable. It was about time enough to start the class, she couldn´t delay more or the magic of the moment would be forever lost. Still, she was a little bit scared. She felt once more butterflies in her stomach, just as if she were on stage again. Well, in some way, she had always been on stage. But she didn´t want to think about it. That was part of her past, and now she was Madame Ivy, the teacher, and this was her world. Where no space for cowards was available...

She spoke firmly when she finally strolled to the middle of the room.

"Everybody, attention, please. The class has already started." she looked at her students again as she patiently waited for the silence she needed to start. Her firm tone made the students stop chatting, their eyes fixed on Madame´s features. "We are gathered here to put in common all the things you´ve been working with during this month. Today, our session is going to be quite especial, class. There will be no teaching on my part, as you may imagine, but I want the same attitude from you all towards our guest" she couldn´t help saying, looking at the still-staring ballet girls, who were just amazed to see such a handsome man standing next to Madame Ivy, "First your questions and then our performances. Please, give our warmest welcome to someone I´ve been admiring in the distance for a long time: Maestro Antonius Batistelli..."

When the greeting applause ended, Ivy whispered one last sentence to the conductor.

"_They are all yours..."_

Tony glanced at the curious and eager young students before him. Their faces were full of expectation and the unmistakable desire to learn. Each stood on the threshold of their dreams; eager to continue their study of the Art they had chosen; to one day be able to make their livelihood in the profession they loved. He knew how they were feeling for he could remember himself at that age, with all the fresh optimism that comes with youth; the desire to immerse yourself in the Art which was your calling and to seek to gain all knowledge possible. Yes, he smiled to himself; it was a feeling with which he was well acquainted.

_"Good morning,"_ he greeted the class warmly, hoping to put them at ease. _"Madame Ivy tells me that this month's sessions are dedicated to finding out different ways of expressing what we feel about love and inspiration and how we all, as performers, can, through our Art, communicate these emotions. You are all here,"_ he smiled cordially, _"because you have discovered a natural talent of expression within yourselves, whether it be dancing, voice, acting or playing an instrument. So you have,"_ he assured them, _"passed what I would call one of the most difficult hurdles. You have acknowledged this desire and have taken those first steps towards your dream, by attending classes which will help you achieve your goals. _

_Those first steps are not always easy and I am certain that you are all dealing with insecurities. I can only tell you that, I too am nervous each time I step into the orchestra pit to begin conducting. When you come to realize that nervousness is a natural reaction, you can begin to work with that reaction, as opposed to dreading it, and that will be the beginning of overcoming your fears. Performing in public has its vast rewards, but can also be intimidating. However, when you are as prepared as you possibly can be, this too will help to ease your fears. Only with time and many performances onstage, will you begin to feel more comfortable and sure of yourself. However_," he continued after a moment, _"I do not feel that standing here and lecturing will be of much help to you. I believe that interaction is the best way to learn, so I would welcome any questions that any of you may wish to ask me."_

Tony smiled once more as he surveyed the faces of Ivy's students.

There was a brief moment of uncomfortable – but at least, predictable- silence. All the class had expected a lecture on the part of Madame´s guest, but, on the contrary, they all felt the conductor an easy going person, encouraging them to ask their questions freely. All students felt they could probably begin breaking the first rule in Madame´s classes: no personal questions allowed. Just to make it different. He had mentioned the first key word: insecurity. Paulette was the first to break the ice.

"_I do have my first question for you, sir", _she said, almost an shy tone,_ "I know it´s OK to feel the way you´ve just described, but is there a way to overcome stage panic? I mean, I can personally feel more or less at ease when I play a scene on my own, but what happens when you have at least one stage companion? What if the other actor can´t overcome his fears? I still think it´s a strong responsibility if I make a mistake and put my partner into trouble when I miss my lines..."_

Tony thought for a moment before replying.

_"Being as well prepared as you can be is the first step towards overcoming such fears. The next step would be to simply get out there; get onstage as often as possible. The more experience you have, the more relaxed you will become when performing._

_Everyone forgets a line from time to time and it is usually not as big of a worry as you might fear.Much of the time, the audience is not even aware that a mistake was made.Also, if you know and understand the character you are portraying and you happen to forget a line, it is possible to improvise; to ad-lib any words you may have forgotten and continue on, to the best of your ability, as though nothing had happened. _

_Truly,"_ he smiled to reassure the girl, _"I can assure you that, most times, only your cast-mates will know what took place.As for helping to conquer another actor's fears, that is a bit more complicated. It is often challenging for ourselves to control our own emotions and doubts; to try and help someone else is difficult. _

_Again, all I can suggest is that you spend as much time as possible in rehearsal with those you are to work with; allow those in the cast to know and trust you. A good relationship between cast-mates offstage as well as on is the key to any successful run. _

_This is true, of course, with musicians as well as actors. When I come to a new city my first goal is to establish some kind of relationship with my players. I believe that is the first step. They must come to know me and know what to expect of me and what I expect from them. So you see, performing is most assuredly a team sport, if you will. There must exist that relationship with others for everything to run well."_

Tony paused here and glanced at all of the faces which sat before him, before finally allowing his dark eyes to rest upon the somewhat bashful girl who had spoken.

_"I hope that will help you,"_ he added sincerely as he waited to see if there would be additional questions.

Indeed, they were all full of questions. Paulette felt extremely relieved with the conductor´s answer, for she was one of the students performing later on, and she had tried her best in most of the rehearsals with Louis. Well, her lines were not perfectly recorded in her mind, but she loved her character choice and Madame had always thought about the two of them as the perfect couple on stage. Yes, Louis always made her feel confident and sure. Even with a Shakespeare comedy. She glanced at her cast-mate and smiled. Everything would be fine.

Pierre was carefully studying Tony from his seat. He had been chosen for playing one of the guest´s nocturnes. It had to be that way, for he was the most advanced music student at _Le Mirage. _He tried to guess how that piece would have sounded when first played by the composer, what kind of things Madame would have felt to lock that piece in her mind and use it years later for a class practise. He seemed to be a sensitive performer, Pierre could see that from the way he talked and moved. But his rehearsals with Madame had been ruled by one only word: technique. He looked at her teacher again. She was attentively listening to the class conversation, sometimes nodding to Sir William or glancing at her other guests. Pierre had a question rising to his lips before he could think about the accuracy of his request with a stranger.

"_I have a curiosity"_, he said, a self confident sounding voice, _"It´s true technique alone means nothing if you want to impress your audience, but when you have to perform another artist´s piece, how can you guess what he thought when creating the piece? Or, on the contrary, do you have to ignore and play your own version?"_

_"I think it is a combination of both,"_ Tony replied thoughtfully_. "Certainly, when attempting to interpret a piece which is new to me, I try to discover what the composer was endeavoring to communicate. This, most times, is not difficult, for such information can usually be found by studying the composer's life; many books are available for just that purpose.__If this is not an option, another way to understand the artist's thoughts is to simply listen to what he has composed, for what a man writes will often speak for itself."_

The conductor paused for a moment, in an attempt to make his words clear.

_"What I mean by that,"_ he continued, _"is that, in most cases, you can come to understand the composer merely by studying his work and therefore begin to understand what his thoughts might have been.__As you study other compositions more and more, you will develop a 'feel' for what you are reading, a way, by the tone of the music alone, to begin to understand the mood of its creator._

_On the other hand, I also believe that each piece an individual plays should turn out to be slightly different from the original, as it becomes more personal to whoever is currently performing it. So yes, there is that combination of discovering the artist's intent when writing, as well as putting much of yourself into the piece when you play it._

_I know that my answer may very well sound a bit confusing to you right now. This again is something that you will learn over time and much practice._

_Of course,"_ Tony added with a smile, _"if you are lucky enough, you may also have the opportunity to ask the composer in person what their thoughts were. But, I can almost assure you that the artist, while possibly answering your question, would also encourage you to find out what their particular composition means to -you- and for you to play it with your own emotions, allowing the piece to become, so to speak, your own._

_At least, I can tell you that is the answer I would give to anyone who approached me wishing to understand my music."_

The moment she felt the class was beginning to feel comfortable with Tony, Ivy motioned towards Wills.

"_Could we have a quick talk outside?"_, she asked, whispering

"_Right now?"_, Wills objected,_ " it´s getting quite interesting..."_

"_I know,"_, she quickly glanced at the conductor speaking, and insisted, "_but this is important..."_

"_OK"_, he sighted, _"Go then..."_

Wills closed the door behind them and sat on a chair in the corridor, a quizzical look on his face.

"_Well, what is it?"_

Ivy gave him an envelope addressed to the school. Inside was a letter containing a business proposal. He quickly went through the document and waited for a second. That was a unique opportunity! Not only did the letter offer a strong patronage for _Le Mirage_, it was also the opening door for his beloved friend to found a solid theatre company on her own. He had expected that to happen, imagining Ivy´s tears of joy when she came across the chance. But she was not. She was waiting for an answer, a face of disbelief looking at him.

"_I still have to accept..." _she nodded, "_Wills, the school´s figures are not suitable enough to back this kind of inversion."_, she explained, "_it´s too risky..." _

"_WHAT are you saying, Ivy?! "_, Wills exclaimed, rising his tone, _"Are you daring to question yourself? I can´t believe what I´m hearing..."_, he tried to recover his voice, "_Things cannot be better for the school now, I can easily see that. Your project is worth investing, people will die if they see your students on stage... For God´s sake, Ivy! Your school has a name here! This has been all your doing…"_

Ivy tried hard to clear her mind. She frowned. He noticed her distress and waved her to sit by his side, taking her hand in a friendly gesture before continuing.

"_What is truly bothering you?"_

"_I do know myself quite well enough by now"_, she started, _"and I don´t like the idea of having these men from the Opera running Le Mirage. I don´t want my school to depend on someone else´s changes of humour."_

"_Oh, well... So you make its future depend on yours!"_, Wills exclaimed quite ironically

"_But…"_

"_No buts, Ivy. I´m not going to let you do this!"_

"I…", she paused for an instant, lost in thought, "I´m still married, Wills", she said, almost pleading for comfort, "I do need my husband´s consent to sign this contract…"

"_Then, do get divorced this instant!!"_

Wills couldn´t help but saying that. He sighed deeply. As much as he cherished his friend, yet, there were times when Ivy really got on his nerves!

"_Stop thinking about that blasted husband of yours right now!" _he exclaimed, when he saw her confused face, "_He doesn´t care a bit about you!" _

Again, he was absolutely right. She couldn´t stand that pain anymore. She had been crying at the top of her voice for too long now. She could still feel Wills´eyes going through her, and looked at him deeply. He always had the right words.

"_Ivy, you have spent too long thinking about a man who has never loved you"_, Wills said softly, squeezing her hand "_Don´t you think it´s time enough to start caring about yourself, my dear? "_

"_Wills, I´m…"_

"_Yes, I know: you are frightened.", _he added,_ "But it is fear which makes us strong, dearest.", _he placed his hands on Ivy´s cheek and gently made her look into his eyes,_ "Why don´t you ask for an associate to help you instead of thinking that way?"_

"_An associate? I hadn´t thought about that"_

"_Just because you´re still too narrow minded, my dear. But you have me! I am part of your staff in the school now, "_, Wills said, _"I´m faithful, wealthy, I am handsome, I do have experience... is that enough or do I have to send my curriculum?" _

Ivy couldn´t find the words to answer. Having Wills as a business partner was the best thing in the world . He could guide her through the complicate world of investing, and deal with the thousand of details she could never think of. Nothing would go wrong if she had him by her side…

"_Will you do that for me?"_

"_I will do anything, even marry you!"_, he laughed and Ivy shared his feeling with a shy smile.

"_Does this silence mean a "yes"?"_

"_Oh, Wills, of course my answer is yes!"_, she replied suddenly, hugging his friend, _ "Nothing could make me feel happier!"_

"_Then, I´ll tell you what to do. I´ll write David telling our plans for Le Mirage, and the Murphy´s Brothers will back you up buying some shares from the school. When you have to sign the contract, our prestige will be at your service, and you could draw your own conditions for that inversion. Opportunity comes once in a lifetime, Ivy, and I won´t let you miss the train just because you´re afraid."_, Wills added, taking up Ivy´s hands, _"I´m your stage brother, remember?" _he emphatically added,_"I´ll be with you, come what may..."_

He gently placed a kiss on her hand and went on talking.

"_Just picture this: Ivy Depreaux, the leading actress running her own company, with a world of suitors and admirers throwing roses at the foot of your dress… An opening night at the Opera, and then, a tour all around Europe…isn´t it just perfect?"_

She laughed out loud. Wills was describing her inmost dream. He had the ability to read all her thoughts… and she loved him for that.

"_I´m not joking!"_, Wills said, _"There´s someone else who wants to see you auditioning at Garnier. And I think you don´t have to think twice, dear…"_, he made a sign with his head. Tony´s voice could be heard from behind the closed door.

She rose from her chair, as if her seat were on fire.

"_No, this is impossible!"_, she said sharply

"_Why not?" ,_Wills went on, _" We both think you would be accepted!"_

"_You know I can´t do that, Wills. I CAN´T leave my students, they are my life!"_

"_That´s true, dear. I forgot you don´t want to have a life on your own, Ivy ."_ ,Wills replied softly

"_This is what I chose when I opened the school, Wills." _she answered, _"Le Mirage is my home."_

"_No, it is your jail, dear. Your devotion for your students is indeed a very noble feeling, Ivy. But it has a dark side. When the classes are over, and you close the door to go home... you still feel alone..."_, he insisted

There was a moment of silence. Ivy tried to smile and disagree, but she could only force a sad gesture and no words came out from her lips. She couldn´t lie to Wills. Even when she wanted to.

"_And loneliness is killing you, my dear..."_

A silent and shy tear almost appeared in Ivy´s deep blue eyes, telling Wills he was absolutely right. He sighted and though if his friend would be ever able to overcome her frustrations.

"_I´m quite sure Tony has seen the light on you, just like me, from the very moment you stepped into my life I admired you greatly. And it´s admiration what has brought us both here. You´ve got this power in your veins, Ivy. So use it, just the way I taught you and find your way in the world."_, he kissed her forehead, a familiar gesture, the way he wished her good luck every time she went on stage, "_Now, my girl, go to your class and finish what you started..."_

Daniel silently agreed at the last remark of the conductor. Those words were not strange at him at all. No even to any student at _Le Mirage_. They were told the same words by Madame each and every day: the idea of combining the artist´s thoughts and the soul of a performer had focussed his last rehearsals. And he had learnt a lot. No, it was not confusing. It was the plain truth. After all, Madame Ivy was right: all artists could speak the same language. They just had to listen to one another.

"_I share the same opinion, monsieur"_, he said, after clearing his throat. All the class looked at him expectantly, "_This is true when you have to perform something previously composed. I believe inspiration is essential to achieve not only an accurate performance, but one having a part of your soul in it."_

"_Yes, but what happens when you´re not inspired, Daniel?"_, Louis asked suddenly, _"All of us have our personal muse to perform for"_

"_And we all know who is yours…" _Pierre added, making the class laugh and Louis blush

"We are not talking about me…", he added quite sharply, "I´m sure there´s no one in this room who could say inspiration has always been at his side. Not even an accomplished musician…", then he addressed directly to the composer, "have you ever felt that way, Maestro?"

Tony was honoured to have been asked to speak at _Le Mirage_, for he understood that Ivy's students were talented. However, he did not realise how much he would enjoy this discussion. By the questions the students presented him, he found that they were all very intelligent and probably even more important, eager and serious students.

Every one of them, he predicted, would go on to be successful in their chosen career. The maestro felt completely at ease now and moved from his standing position behind the small podium to sit instead upon the edge of the desk.

_"You are absolutely correct, Louis. Inspiration is not something that we can force upon ourselves, but rather it has to come from the soul. Most music, as I am sure you already realise, reflects the emotions of the composer and therefore most of the time is written_ _about love; whether about finding love or losing it. There are also some very moving and patriotic pieces, but there again; we are speaking of love; not for a woman, but for a country. So you see," _he smiled, noting the slight blush on Louis' face, _"love really does conquer all!__But, that is not answering your question."_

Tony paused for a moment to gather his thoughts.

_"Yes, I have felt that way,"_ he admitted candidly. _"There are times when I can find no inspiration and if I am working on something of my own, I simply put it aside until I find my own muse."_ He smiled at Louis. _"Of all the careers in the world, the job of a performer is one of the most difficult. Many times, you will find that, regardless of how you feel on any certain night, the audience expects your best. Now, that is not necessarily a bad thing and the audience certainly has the right to expect the best performance possible, but they sometimes seem to forget that there are -people- up there onstage, not some faultless automatons.__They fail to realise that our own emotions, on any given day, can and will affect our performance to some degree._

_Most times, you will love being upon the stage; you will realise that performing is truly the greatest occupation in the world.__But, there will be times, and they are usually rare, when you will question whether or not you really have chosen the right career. You will wonder if the long hours of rehearsal and tiring performances are really worth it. You may sometimes feel as though you have not touched the audience in any way._

_Do not let these times distress you. When you have lost inspiration, you must stop and ask yourself why you became a performer in the first place. Was it merely for the adoration of the crowd? If that is the case, I can tell you that you will be disappointed more often than you realise._

_If you have become an artist to please yourself firstly, then you have discovered the secret to contentment in your field; knowing what you wish to do with your life and then following that dream, regardless of the inevitable setbacks, is the key to happiness in any endeavour._

_So yes, you will lose your motivation at times, we all do. However, if you realise that fact and do not allow those times to overwhelm you, you will find that it is a normal part of life and indeed many times, even those depressing moments can make you a better performer."_

Tony glanced at each young faces before him, each listening attentively.

_"I hope,"_ he concluded, _"that it will help you all to realise that even the most experienced musician goes through these 'dry' periods. There may also be a particular piece of music or a role to portray that simply does not touch you in anyway. It may be that you do not understand the meaning of the music or the character. However, even in these situations, I would encourage you to take the time to try to comprehend the meaning of what is presented you. I can guarantee that this type of study will make you a better performer."_

"_So, if I understand you correctly, Maestro",_ Dick remarked then, _"it´s all the same at the end. I mean, no matter if you´re a professional or just an inexperienced performer. At the end, there´s not so much of a difference; it´s always hard work, isn´t it?"_

"_Cool!", _Pierre exclaimed impulsively before Tony could reply, _"then none of us will ever leave the school!"_

"_No Pierre!"_, Ayleen added, _"you must consider your words for once. We´re used to worki8ng hard because of…"_, she paused, glancing at the seat Ivy had vacated, _"… well, because of her. And I think it´s something we should take advantage of."_

"_Or it could turn out to be a problem, Ayleen"_, Pierre added, more seriously, _"There are times when I feel we´re overprotected at Le Mirage"_

The rest of the class looked at him in amazement. Wills covered his mouth to avoid laughing, but nodded at the students´ argument. Somehow, Pierre was right. But he won´t say a word. It was Tony´s lecture, not his.

"_Sometimes I also wonder if performing would be the same in a real auditorium"_, Daniel added, _"before an unknown audience"_. His last words provoked a murmur within the class, _"Understand, I´m not questioning the school teaching methods, not at all, for as soon as I enrolled my dancing technique improved. I just want to know if it´s the same outside."_

"_Yes, Maestro"_, Dick was ready to make another question, _"how does it feel when you enter the pit each night? Is it so… addictive?"_

_"You will find that -every- performance is different,"_ Tony addressed Daniel's question first. _"Whether you are in the same auditorium or not does not matter so much because, by the very nature of theatre, each night, each performance will not run in the exact same way. But, I understand what you are asking. Certainly it will be a different thing for you to perform outside of school. You are probably just starting to become comfortable here and when you are asked to play your Art on another stage, it will, at first, be somewhat unsettling. I do not say this to frighten you, but merely to help prepare you. However, along with that, when you find yourself engaged somewhere else, there will no doubt be opportunity for you to rehearse and there too will come into play what I have already stated; that practice will give you confidence; practice and developing mutual respect and trust among the company."_

The conductor turned his attention towards the last gentleman who spoke.

_"Addictive is a good word,"_ he grinned. _"As for how I feel when I step into the pit, well... I will try to explain it to you. It is -always- exciting to know that, in a few short moments, the orchestra will begin to play and that from those first notes, until the ending piece, the audience will be affected by what they hear.__There is also an incredible amount of power, which I like as well." _Tony chuckled good-naturedly as he smiled at the class. _"But, seriously,"_ he added, as his tone grew more somber, _"it is an awesome responsibility. However I also have to add that, since I have been lucky enough to conduct some of the finest musicians in Europe, my job has not been so complex and it is a great pleasure to lead those who are so professional._

_Speaking of the audience reaction let me also add that there will be times, unfortunately, when you may perform before a bad audience. By that I mean one that seems unappreciative of your efforts. You must not let those times upset you, for you must always keep in mind that you became an artist because it is something that you love and pleases you. Never let anyone deter you or be little your choice of profession._

_Now, if I may, I would like to ask the class a question._

_Has anyone here come up against those, whether it be your family or friends, who opposed your decision to become an actor, dancer or vocalist? And if so, how did that make you feel?"_

There were then four people affected by the conductor´s question to the class. It was Daniel who spoke first.

"_Yes, sometimes I´ve felt strange about that, Maestro, especially when I have to tell a stranger what I really want to become in the future. "_, he admitted, _"There´s been a strong ballet tradition in my family; I´ve been dancing since I was a little boy, so when I told my aunt I wanted to accept the school´s offer, she supported me from the very first moment… But still, not all males can understand why I want to perform a ´lady´s job´, if you know what I mean. But I´ve always known I´m different"_, he added, a serious tone in his voice, _"dancing is the breathing to me, as it was for my father. So I just have to think about him to feel it all has been worth it…"_

"_No one has the right to decide upon you, Daniel"_, Louis exclaimed then, _" any performing art can turn a man´s life upside down, but it´s all for the best. Look at me, I´m a good example. I had my life planned from the very moment I was born: I was bound to a boring existence running my father´s business, but I chose a different walk… I even lied to my father when I first came to Paris, when I told him I was attending an accountancy course when I should have admitted my wish to be a playwright. I´m not proud of that, of course, but I´m doing what I want to. At least, when my father realised I was talented he turned attention to me for once in his life. Although he told me I had deceived him…"_

"_Yes, but when their reaction is like that, Louis, there´s nothing else you can do but go on with your life until you are given an opportunity"_¸ Ayleen agreed, a passionate tone in her voice, _"I´ve never had too many things in my life to be proud of, life is even more difficult for any low class girl, and this is something I´m not sure you men can understand. However, I try not to look back, and that´s something I learnt here, in the school. Maybe the future would have been different for me if I had stayed in Toulouse with my people. But I came to Paris, and now my life is different_."

"_I do have a question for you, Ayleen"_, Pierre said then, _"what would you have done if you hadn´t met Madame after being rejected in that first casting at the Opera House?"_

Ayleen blushed. She still remembered how she was feeling when she first heard Madame´s words of aim. These words had indeed changed her life.

"Honestly, Pierre. I would have returned to my old life, I´m not so brave. I would probably be married by now…", she grinned, blushing again

"_And? Do you regret your decision? Have you ever thought about trying an audition again?"_, Pierre asked again

"_Not for a moment! I do have a name here and I don´t care about anything else…And about another casting… It´s difficult to tell you something, Pierre. Maybe someday…"_

"_I´ve always felt I was born to be an actor"_, Dick added, _"to have the power to move the audience and rule their emotions while performing. But yet, I can understand Ayleen and Louis when they say they´ve had to renounce to both their families and their future. Life is very hard outside, especially in a city such as London. I worked as a waiter, a coachman, a shop assistant… I even had to beg in the street, stealing from the rich to have something to eat the day after…"_

_"From what you all have told me,"_ Tony replied as the class fell silent, _"I would say that you have a deep desire to become performers. That, as I may have mentioned before, is the first step towards attaining your dream; that,"_ he smiled, _"and a lot of work as well as a bit of luck._

_Daniel, you are very blessed to have your father's influence to follow. And you are correct; many in this culture feel that a male dancer is an oddity.__But, you have the opportunity to prove to them; to show them that their prejudices are unfounded and based on ignorance. I would encourage you to think of that, and your father, each time you step upon the stage. _

_Louis, you have taken steps different from your family wishes because you knew that you would not find happiness in being what others wanted you to be. It took a great deal of strength on your part to go against family tradition and I admire that._

_I have never," _the conductor admitted frankly,_ "had to face that sort of situation. My entire family has been involved in music in some way or another, so it was very natural for me to follow those footsteps."_

He turned to address the young lady who had spoken earlier. _"Do not give up your dreams of auditioning at the opera house, Ayleen. There will come a time when you are ready to try again. I would encourage you to not feel as though you must force yourself into any decisions. Simply continue your study here and when the time is right to try again, you will know._

_I know that rejection is a difficult thing, but try not to let it discourage you, but rather let it make you work that much harder.__Every person in our line of work has faced rejection, myself included. During one of my very first auditions," _Tony blushed slightly before grinning at the memory, _"I was so nervous that the sheet music, which I had laid on the stand, was all out of order. You can imagine what that must have looked like. There I was, ready to take up the baton and when I glanced down at the music stand, I knew something was dreadfully wrong. _

_It was quite a disaster! I dropped the baton in an effort to fix the pages and all the while the musicians were staring at me as though I had sprouted wings or something. I am certain that they all thought I was quite mad and I could hear their sighs of relief when the manager came up to me and quietly put his hand on my shoulder, asking me to come back at another time. They had more conductors waiting to audition and I was fairly certain that I had lost that job!_

_You have become an actor for exactly the right reasons, Dick" _Tony hasted to assure the other boy who had spoken.

_"Is there any greater feeling than to know you've touched and moved the audience; that you were, as you say, able to rule their emotions? It is what every performer strives for, whether it be a musician, singer or dancer, we all hope to change the audience in some way; to affect them by our presentation. But still, again, we must seek to please ourselves first of all or we will never be truly happy."_

The conductor glanced at Ivy's students and wondered... Was there among them, someone destined to be a genius? Another Mozart, perhaps? That was the exciting part, he knew, discovering where each talent lay and how it might be used to its full potential.

_"Is there anyone else here who has auditioned for one of the companies in the city?"_  
He continued his questioning. _"Someone here perhaps who has already found work in their profession?__And also,"_ he added before they could reply, _"I would like to know who, if anyone, may have inspired some of you to become performers. Such as in Daniel's case, his father.__Perhaps it was someone in your family, or someone's work who you admire greatly."_

Gloria raised her hand at Tony´s last question,

"_I was part of the Murphy´s Brothers ballet corps before coming here"_, she explained, _"and I do know what is to feel you´re rejected from other companies. You just have to follow your instincts, as I did, as well as Sir William´s good advices…"_, she added, grinning softly, _"I´m sure I won´t dance the same when I return to England after this season in Le Mirage."_

Tony nodded at Gloria's words. He had heard of the Murphy Brother's ballet corps. They were quite well known in this part of Europe. He had, from time to time, worked with a dancer or two, on various stages across the world where he conducted, who had been trained by the brothers. They were all excellent and dedicated performers...

He spoke then hearing Gloria´s words, for the first time in nearly forty five minutes,

"_I hope so, dear, that´s what David and I are still paying Ivy for, to make an excellent ballerina of you…You know nothing else could make us happier…"_

"_Thank you, Sir William", _she answered, blushing slightly at his words, _"I´m trying my best."_

"_I´m pretty sure about it, Gloria."_

Then Dick spoke again, he wanted to answer the conductor´s question about who inspired him to be a performer.

"_I come from Stratford"_, he began, _"and I remember when I was a very little boy at school that I learnt to read and write with Shakespeare´s sonnets. From then on, when I discovered the magic of his words and that my voice could bring them alive, I wanted to be an actor and play such enthusing poems for an audience…"_

"_Well, that´s also my case, I do admire William Shakespeare and my goal is to play Lady Macbeth someday in The Globe. "_, Paulette said, _"But the difference between you and me is that you can easily learn any poem after two readings, and I have to study at least one week for ten lines…"_

"_I wouldn´t worry too much about this, Paulette"_, Dick responded, _"Shakespeare is only a question of practise…"_

"_Such as Mozart at the piano"_, Pierre added passionately, _"I believe no one else in the world could haven written more beautiful operas… He was indeed a genius!"_

Tony was delighted with the turn the conversation had taken.

_"I idolize Mozart,"_ he told the class. _"I do not believe that any greater musical genius existed than he. So, I wholehearted agree with you, Pierre. Truly one who was gifted at such a young age can only be considered brilliant and even that word does not due him justice._

_And, you are correct, Dick." _

He turned his attention back to the other boy and Paulette.

_"There is no better playwright to study than the bard of Avon. Shakespeare truly understood the human condition and more so than that, he knew how to express that knowledge in the words which flowed throughout his plays._

_Paulette, it is not so much memorizing the words of Shakespeare as it is coming to understand what he was saying. There is where the true talent lies and if you love his work, the understanding will come."_

When she entered the stage room again, she saw something which made her smile. Someone different was teaching her students, the pianist she thought she would never meet after that painful concert in Barcelona was now a guest in her school. Speaking the same words she had tried to teach in _Le Mirage_. And the students seemed to be pleased.

The moment coffee began to be served, Ivy motioned towards Tony. She had missed the lecture, but she could feel its effects on her students.

"_I must thank you, Tony"_, she said, sincerely smiling, _"this means too much for my students and for me also. I never thought I could have you as a guest in my school..."_

"_It has been my extreme pleasure, Ivy."_ Tony replied sincerely, not without a slight blush coming to his dark features at her generous compliment_.__" I must say that, while I knew your students would be intelligent, I was amazed at their depth of understanding for the Arts; amazed because they all seem to have a knowledge beyond their years."_

_  
_The conductor smiled before adding. _"And, I must tell you that each student has a tremendous amount of respect and I would even say love for you, Ivy. You should be very proud of your accomplishments here at the school and I am very eager for the performance to begin.__I know they will make you proud in that way, as well."  
_As Tony spoke, he handed a steaming cup of coffee to Ivy and then took for himself.

He glanced around the room, watching the students, who had broken up into smaller more intimate groups, conversing with one another. He felt very relaxed and comfortable there.

_"You´re right, Tony, I´m also deeply proud of my students, and would do anything for them" _Ivy found herself saying, "_I don´t know what I´d do if I ever lose what I have at Le Mirage. "._ She smiled charmingly, a soft tone in her voice as she glanced around and watched her students´chat while taking a sip of her cup, _"a devote student never lets you down if you are true and firm at the same time. I also was a student once, when I met Wills"_, she admitted and glanced a her friend, who was now talking to Dick, "_and one of the things I learnt when I was trained was to trust him completely, until the moment I was ready to perform in public. he has always showed an extreme amount of patience and understanding with me, even now. He is still able to read my thoughts the way he used to when we worked together...", _she added in a nearly confidential tone, grinning.

It was true. She could still see herself there, an insecure and nervous girl in a similar room, being part of a hosting session in the Murphy´s Brothers company. They had invited a world famous ballerina to their school in London, and Wills encouraged her to dance a solo addagio in front of her exactly the same way she had just trained Pierre with Tony´s nocturne... so she could understand each and every one of her students and had tried her best to make them conscious of how important this visit was for their training.

_"And yes, their performances will be surprising, I´m pretty sure of that, because each student is a different world. They have all been working very hard for a whole month, so I expect a high quality performance from each one of them. That´s the amusing part of being a teacher, "_she added, smiling to the conductor, _"and it is also the reward for the efforts, when you are respected, and even loved..."_

Ivy thought twice her last words as she was speaking to Tony. Yes, she felt she was loved there, in her school. But what about love outside _Le Mirage_? Did she still have space in her heart to love and be loved in return? Or it was the love she felt for her students the only thing she could give to anyone?

"_You've gained a deep trust and admiration from your students, Ivy. That was very obvious when I spoke to them earlier. They speak of you with the utmost respect. You have good reason to be proud of them and proud of yourself as well._

_I have seen,"_ he continued thoughtfully, _"many types of instructors during my travels and I can tell you that earning the student's esteem is, I am sorry to say, sometimes rare. I have seen teachers who only consider their own ego; how their students' performance will reflect upon themselves and nothing more. These types are the kind who very often bully their students and often times make the student so miserable that they either leave or quite learning their Art entirely. It is a sad thing to see and I have even spoken with a few individuals who have experienced such awful events in their own lives. We sometimes take for granted just how important the right instructor can be."_

Wills returned from the dressing room just in time to find out the performance was about to start. He was on his way to meet Ivy´s guests again when one of the school teachers came across his features. Elyanne Caronse, the dancing pianist, welcomed him with a broad smile.

_"Sir William"_, the woman exclaimed politely offering her hand to him, _"how glad is to see you back again at Le Mirage!"_

_"It´s always a pleasure for me to feel like home, so warmly greeted...", _he replied, gallantly placing a kiss on hers

_"Madame Ivy has just told me you will be joining our staff for the whole season. This is the best of news, allow me to say..."_

_"I´m willing to teach again,"_, Wills replied, _"and looking forward to discover some new talents for the stage. So, keep your eyes open, dear, you could be the next..."_. They both laughed out loud, _"how are things going around here?"_

The woman glanced across the stage room before replying Wills question. The answer was much more than evident.

_"Almost empty handed, sir"_, she responded, _"and desperately needing a break for the weekend"_, the teacher stopped for a moment before going on, _"you know I´ve never questioned Madame before"_, Elyanne almost apologised for what, she considered, was going to be an indiscrete comment on her part, "_but she should take care of herself."_

_"Overworking again?"_, Wills asked. Obviously, he could forecast the teacher´s answer

_"Even at night, sir", _Elyanne added, _"She never stops..."_

Wills nodded. He knew Elyanne Caronse had been by her friend´s side from the very beginnings of _Le Mirage_, and, by the look of the teacher´s face, he could guess how the previous days should have been at the school.

_"Now that you´re here_", she continued_, "our director might be able to slow down..."_

_"She will, Elyanne"_, Wills concluded. 'I´ll make myself sure of that', he thought to himself. It was more serious than what he had thought, Ivy´s obsession to lock herself up inside the school. Wills wondered how long his friend had been so isolated...

_"Tell me something, Elyanne"_, he suddenly asked her, as a new idea crossed his mind, _"is anyone playing The School Waltz today?"_

The woman shook her head.

_"No one, as far as I know"_, she responded, _"it´s not in the schedule..."_

Wills smiled upon hearing her last words. Perhaps he could fix that... Ivy was too used to planning her classes, and this was a golden opprtunity for her to change.

_"Could you please sit at the piano and wait for my introduction?"_, he said, almost innocently

_"Well, I don´t know..."_

_"Come on, stick with me!"_, Wills replied,_ "there´s been no hosting lesson here without The School Waltz being played up to now. We simply can´t break this rule, can we?"_

Moments later, Wills was standing in the middle of the stage room.

_"May I have your attention, please_?", he spoke aloud and waited until the class felt silent_, "it is my distinct pleasure and my duty to please Madame Ivy by presenting to our guests the rules of our most exciting tradition at Le Mirage: The School Waltz"_, he announced, looking straight at Ivy, _"Stage companions must dance together the first round and the fine young ladies gathered here will chose their counterpart for the second. Does anyone feel like singing today?"_

Ivy became paralysed. That was not in the schedule! The School Waltz was something private, a pleasure she only kept for hosting the Murphy´s Brothers alone. She had to stop Wills right now! She´d do it, she´d sing...

_"Me!", _Evelyn Rouge had kept silent up to that moment; she was not going to gain her living like that, for her it was only a pastime, but well, The School Waltz was worth practising...

_"Bravo_!", Wills answered laughing, watching Ivy had been stopped by her own student_, "So, ladies, ready to lead us waltzing?" _

Ivy was still speechless. 'Stay calm, you idiot…' Ivy thought to herself. 'No one must notice this is out of the schedule…' She tried hard to think nothing and prepared herself to keep on acting as the perfect charming host and start the Waltz with Tony. But Wills had put her again into a deep trouble.

"_I can think of nothing I would enjoy more than to dance with such charming company."_ Tony replied sincerely, smiling at Wills before turning his attention to Ivy. _"It seems,"_ his eyes sparkled with humour, _"that your friend Wills is playing match-maker!"_

He took her hand, placing a kiss upon it before bowing slightly at her.

"Would you do me the honour, Madame?"

It was useless to get cross to Wills anyway. Attempting to put her feelings aside, Ivy smiled and spoke gently to her guest.

"I´´m following you…"

Ivy lead Tony to the centre of the class and, after curtsying slightly, she took his hand and began to follow the first bars of the School Waltz. She immediately forgot who was the man she was dancing with and what his visit meant to her and the school. Ivy took two little two-steps to guess if he could waltz following the rhythm and then let herself being gently twirled her partner across the dance floor. Tony was following her, instinctively, unlikely as it seemed to her at first. She could do nothing else but smile, fixing her eyes on her dancing companion.

_"Let´s dance,__  
__you can take two little footsteps,___

_I´ll go anywhere that you step too,__  
__Cause I´m waltzing with you.___

_My feet aren´t falling out of rhythm,__  
__I don´t know what I´m doing with them___

_But I know I´m waltzing with you…"_

"_I´m amazed, Tony"_, she whispered in his ear, "_has anyone ever told you your waltz style is more than acceptable?" _

Tony was pleased by her compliment.

_"It is of great help,"_ he replied, _"when one has an excellent companion such as yourself."_They seemed to flow across the floor, so easy were their movements.

_"Dancing is like fencing, is it not,"_ he smiled. _"In order to be at your best, you must have__an equally fine partner." _His praises were sincere in tone, for he rarely met women who were as accomplished as she.

He held her lightly, yet closely in his arms and realized how much he had been missing someone like her in his life...

"…_As magic as it seems to me,__  
__We´re on the floor with two left feet, __  
__Let´s keep on dancing until our hearts keep the beat…"_

There was loneliness in the life he had chosen. Even though he was often surrounded by others, he found himself missing the company of a special woman. Travelling as he did, never afforded him the opportunity to get close to anyone; not anymore. He had opened his heart once and then duty called him elsewhere, as it had called her away from his side. Now that Carlotta Guidicelli was nothing more than a remembrance in his mind, now that he had realised he had forever lost her, Tony knew he only had his work, his music, to rely on…

Yet still, his work was his life and he could not imagine being anything other than what he was; a musician who strived to bring excellence to his work through the careful coaching of others.

_"Are you ever lonely, Ivy?"_ He whispered against her ear, before he could prevent himself from mouthing such a personal question.

"…_Here comes the encore,__  
__Flow again around the dance floor,__  
__One step right, and then left,___

_I´m leading you__  
__Now that I´m waltzing with you…"_

Tony´s voice made her shiver slightly while they kept on waltzing around. What was happening? What made it all so different? When was the last time she had danced the way she was dancing now? Ivy couldn´t remember. And that, indeed, hurt her, because with Adrian, she had never danced like that. Instead, she had got used to dance alone, painfully. So alone. She was dancing alone when she first heard him play, and from that moment, loneliness had always been there, like a ghost, hunting her nights, hiding behind the shadows of her sleep. That sleep which never came along to comfort her the way it had to. Even now that she felt free and strong enough to accept she would always be alone, it was painful to answer the question aloud…

"_Yes, I am"_, she admitted softly. Words came out to her mouth automatically, she couldn't stop them flowing out. '_Whenever I step out of Le Mirage…_' , she added, ironically. It was the life she had chosen, wasn't it?. _"I have hardly been able to have a life on my own since up to now…"_

...Whenever she stepped out of _Le Mirage..._

Tony nodded in complete understanding. It was the same for him. Although most of his day and evening were taken up with his career, there were times, although rare, when he was not at work and the thoughts of having a companion filled his heart and mind. Music was a satisfying companion; almost, but at times it was simply not enough.

_"Forgive me, Ivy if I've taken a wonderful moment and filled it with such gloomy thoughts.__The truth is,"_ his voice became lighter in an attempt to brighten the mood, _"we are not so alone; you and I, for we have met each other. Something tells me that you and I are most certainly kindred spirits.__We understand each other, almost without the need to speak and that is a rare thing indeed.__I am glad,"_ he glanced down into her lustrous eyes, _"that we met; very glad that you invited me here and honoured to be your friend."_

They kept on waltzing around, following the lively rhythm of the tune. Ivy was confused. She felt a strange oppression on her chest, some kind of smooth feeling she had never experienced before. Not even with anyone. She tried to give the feeling a name. Understanding. Intimacy. Unexpected closeness between two strangers dancing a very simple song.

But she too felt the conductor had never been a stranger to her. Maybe because he was lonely too. Perhaps he was still looking for something music could not give him, just like her. Just like that night, in Barcelona, when she walked alone on the beach, when she danced alone into the sea, painfully seeking something she knew now she could never get. It was the same old pain. Although, somehow, there was a difference. This time, she had a dancing companion, and he was the most unlikely one.

"_Me too"_, she answered, returning the smile, _"I´m very glad to have met you, Tony"_, she added softly, "_and don´t regret your question. It was the most sincere any man has ever asked to me. That shows, again, you are what your music shows…"_

There could have been no grander compliment than when she stated that his music reflected the type of man he was. Tony pulled her closer into his arms. It was an imperceptible motion; one that would still be deemed appropriate by any who may be watching yet it allowed him to feel Ivy against him; to take in the delicious aroma of her perfume.

He remained silent, as the dance continued, simply enjoying her company in companionable silence. It had been a long time since he danced like this; not that he hadn't attended his share of celebrations all over the world, for he was often invited to the parties of the patrons in the various countries in which he worked, but it had been too long since he felt this sort of kinship with another person.But this lady… the way she danced with him… the way she looked at him, her eyes… as deep as the sea, as sad as the infinite…

The silence they shared… it was telling him so many things about her! So many that Tony thought, for just one instant, he had known her forever…

Only four more chords for the second round to start. Ivy found out she had begun softly humming the tune while she let herself being lead by her accomplished danseur, their feet keeping the beat almost naturally. She smiled silently, relaxed, when she noticed the conductor´s embrace, her eyes sparkling with a sudden glance of light. It was a nice feeling to dance that way just for pleasure. Not alone anymore, even for a quick waltz time tune. She wondered if Tony had noticed that too, for he was leading her beautifully now. With no words. Only music. That was enough to make her alive again without pretending, for the first time in what it seemed now an ageless time in solitude. 'If dance is the chore of life', she thought, 'if dance is my salvation, I´m being saved this instant…'

Perhaps, just perhaps, all the things she had dreamt of would be true now. One day, she had imagined, someone would step into her life, silently and suddenly… he would free her, he would light up the fires of what she had thought forever lost…

Only music could do that to her. Only dancing.

But he was now part of the music in her mind.

Tony was saving her from her lonesomeness. He was now her music companion… at least until the School Waltz finished…

-END OF CHAPTER SIX- (more soon)


	7. Chapter 7 The Audition

CHAPTER SEVEN: "The Audition"

**CHAPTER SEVEN: **_**"The Audition"**_

TIME LINE: THE NIGHT BEFORE THE AUDITION; JUST AFTER MIDNIGHT. AN APPARTMENT SHARED BY SOME LE MIRAGE STUDENTS.

Gloria served two glasses of hot milk and put some fruit and cheese on the kitchen table. Then, there was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Gloria peeled an apple for her friend and both girls began eating silently. It was Ayleen who finally dared break the silence in the kitchen.

"_What are we going to do, Gloria?"_, she asked softly, _"I mean… with what Evelyn told us…"_

"_I honestly don´t know"_, she responded, sighing, _"Evelyn was right, Ayleen. I just hope he won´t try to enter the school during the audition"_, she added, frowning at Ayleen, _"he could ruin it all."_

"_But there might be something we could do, Gloria"_, Ayleen responded, _"perhaps if we tell Daniel, or Dick, they could watch out for Madame Ivy."_ She stopped talking for an instant, and then added emphatically, _"We have____to do something for her, Gloria, it´s our duty. I have known Madame Ivy for nearly three years now, and I owe her a lot of things, like most of us. Honestly, Gloria, I do not mind why she left her husband, she does not have an indecent reputation, all Paris know this! Her marriage is not my business, she might have had her own reasons, and I do admire her for what she did."_

"_Yes, I know, dear, but Evelyn is right"_, Gloria replied, placing a hand on her friend´s shoulder. _"Neither of us cares a bit… but what about the rest? The parents, the tutors, possible patrons, or people from the high class… Le Mirage is a public institution, Ayleen, and Madame Ivy has a name in Paris, a reputation to take care of. Do you think Cory´s parents, or Daniel´s family will ever understand that? Just imagine Nadine Passarino asking for an explanation! A quarrel between Madame and her husband would be a scandal for all Paris talk about!"_

SAME TIME. MUSIC ROOM AT LE MIRAGE.

It was impossible. Ivy sighed as she drank the last sip from her tea. After a day like hers, anyone else in the world would have slept peacefully. But Ivy couldn´t. She rolled over again in her bed. It was not as comfortable as her huge bedroom in La Madeleine. But she could not spend the night in her apartment. Not tonight. If she were bound not to sleep, she needed to have her things near. To feel she was home; not alone.

She got up and lit up a candle. For a moment, Ivy stared at her own image on the other side of the mirror. 'You´ll get ill if you can´t stop it…', she thought painfully, watching at the lines under her eyes. Ill and old. She felt older than her age. Old at thirty two. Withering like a flower when spring is over. She suddenly thought about her dead mother. When she was her age, she already had a child, and a happy marriage. Ivy did not have any of those things. She would have loved to have a child like her mother, a little red haired girl who loved music above all things, who enjoyed gardening and watching ballets. Her own child. Blood from her blood. But that was not possible.

She suddenly realised she had spent the whole day missing her closest, missing her parents, and her friends. Missing Wills. He was not there to make her laugh, to give her strength and faith. She had missed his wise words, his generous friendship… he would have known what to do about the dammed letter. But Ivy could not do it alone, and she only had three days left to make up her mind. And an audition which was almost exhausting her.

Ivy went back to bed after listing all the things she had to do the day after and decided to read. She opened the drawer of her night table and took out a book. Wills had given it to her during the brothers´last visit to the school. Ivy could not stop from smiling at what her friend had written on the first page…

'I made myself sure you have a book boring enough to make you wish having me there, wherever you are now. The greatest love for the greatest stage sister: William."

She laid her fingers through his handwriting, sighed again and opened the book in the first page…

The tale of Horribly good Bertha, by William Murphy

"Once upon a time, not a long ago, there was a little girl called Bertha. She was always well behaved and worked hard at school to please her parents and her teachers. She was never late, never dirty or untidy, never rude, and she never told lies. Bertha was not very pretty. She was just terribly good. Bertha was so good that she had three medals. One said 'Never late', other read 'Always polite' and the third said 'The best child in the world'.

One fine day, Bertha was invited by the king of the country to his palace. So she put on her best clean dress, she pinned her three medals to the front and she walked through the woods to the king´s palace. But in the woods there lived a big hungry wolf. He saw Bertha´s lovely white dress through the trees and he heard her medals tickling together as she walked. 'Aha!', thought the wolf, 'Lunch!' and he started to move quickly but quietly through the trees towards Bertha.

Bertha tried to run away but she couldn´t run fast because the medals were very heavy. The wolf caught her easily and he ate everything, every little bit of the girl… except the three medals…"

It was nearly sunrise. As Ivy closed the book and wrapped herself in the blankets. She thought she was that girl. And she would be eaten by her own wolf if she did not stop hurting…

SEPTEMBER 1776. THE MURPHYS BROTHERS SCHOOL, AUDITION ROOM

"_Ivy, please! "_, he insisted, _"I am just asking for five minutes of your time, no more than five minutes!"_

"_Oh, Wills…!"_

"_But Miss Rondón is already waiting, dear!"_, he tried another time,_ "And you are the only one here who can speak a little Spanish, Ivy. I just can smile and say 'Si, si…', but I can´t understand a further word! "_

Ivy doubted it. She did not like the idea of facing this new artist at all. She would have preferred to stay alone at home, but both the Brothers had felt this was being a difficult day for Ivy and had 'conspired' not to leave her alone. First, David had invited her dancing tonight, and now Wills and his idea of having her auditioning Conchita Rondón, the new copla singer the brothers were about to hire for a tour around Spain. All for today; her saddest day of all by far. For today, a year ago, she ran away from Foxes Manor. And she did not want the slightest thing to make her think of him.

But she could not tell Wills, nor David. She could not tell the Brothers why she had left her old life to be a member of their company. She was afraid of what they could think of her. She was frightened that she could hurt them. It was some time since Ivy had learnt about Wills' unusual nature and, although she had admired his sincerity and straightforwardness, Ivy had understood she could never tell Wills she had lived for five years with a man like the Baron of Letissieur; no, if she did not want to break her teacher´s trust.

"Alright, Wills you win…"

"_SI!!"_, the nice man laughed out loud and hugged her, _"Oh Ivy, sweet, I owe you my life!"_

In the other room, a pretty dark haired lady, dressed with a beautiful red bata de cola waited with Ramiro Olveiros. None of them could spoke a word in English, and Conchita was mortified. They had travelled very far to get to an agreement with the Murphys and she had rehearsed her copla until it worked perfect. Conchita would have preferred indeed to sing another song, perhaps the famous one telling the tragic romance between young and recently passed away Queen Mercedes de Montpasier and King Alfonso, but Ramiro had insisted. 'Son ingleses, y actores', they had told her wisely, appealing to the common English character, so typically cold and tied to the Spanish stereotype of toreros, gipsies and flamenco dancers, ' dales lo que quieren ver, mi morena…' Give them what they want to see, that Conchita would do. But without suspecting she would hurt deeply the lady who was going to audition her.

"_Mr Olveiros, Miss Rondón!"_, Wills greeted the couple as he and Ivy entered the audition room, _"I´m here with the translator I promised…"_

"_Señora, caballero… buenas tardes"_, Ivy curtsied politely her respects, _"mi nombre es Ivy Depreaux, encantada de conocerles. Podemos empezar la audición cuando quieran."_

Ivy found it very strange to speak in Spanish, after such a long time. She was not comfortable, but carefully she tried to hide the many unpleasant memories which were haunting her. Wills, guessing she was telling the couple they could start with Conchita´s audition, took his seat at the piano. Ivy sighed, as she heard the first chords of a copla and the words in Spanish entered her mind, hurting like sharp knives… long ago, she had also made that plea to Adrian. And he had never answered.

'_I__f you wanted me to walk barefooted to beg in the streets,_

_to beg in the streets I would walk barefooted;_

_if you wanted me to cut my veins,_

_a blood stream would splash on me._

_If you wanted me to throw myself to the fire,_

_I would consume like wood;_

_because I´m your slave and you the almighty owner_

_of my body, my soul and my life,_

_and in return for this, which is very little,_

_hear what I want to ask you myself:_

_Tell me that you love me, tell it to me, for God´s sake!_

_even if you´re lying, even if you don´t feel it,_

_but please tell me so._

_Tell me in a whisper,_

_it would be easier for you to tell me this way,_

_and your 'I love you' will be for my sorrow_

_like April rain for a dry land._

_Be merciful with my heart…_

_Tell me that you love me, tell me that you love me,_

_tell it to me, for God´s sake…_

_If your almond eyes did not look at me anymore,_

_the pulse in my temples would stop;_

_if your wheat lips did not kiss me anymore,_

_the flower in my mouth would fade away._

_If your sun tanned arms did not hold me anymore,_

_mine would be forever empty;_

_and if you ever told me you love me anymore,_

_My, I don´t know what I could do!_

_because I only live because of you_

_you who give me death, or make me live…_

_Tell me that you love me, tell it to me, for God´s sake!_

_even if you´re lying, even if you don´t feel it,_

_but please tell me so._

_Tell me in a whisper,_

_it would be easier for you to tell me this way,_

_and your 'I love you' will be for my sorrow_

_like April rain for a dry land._

_Be merciful with my heart…_

_Tell me that you love me, tell me that you love me,_

_tell it to me, for God´s sake…'_

Ivy tried hard to hide her emotions while Conchita sang, for she could well identify with what the copla asked for through the lady´s powerful, emotional voice. Adrian had never shown her that he loved her, there would never be a man who told her so. Only in her dreams, there was one heart who understood. And she found out that moment, this man´s face was blurred. He only lived in her dreams.

FOUR HOURS LATER. A DANCING PAVILLION IN BATTERSEA PARK, LONDON.

The night was very nice indeed, with a full moon shining over the lake in those gardens and a thousand stars twinkling above them, many couples had joined the Annual Ball Dancing Festival, where David Murphy had taken Ivy. His brother had suggested so during breakfast, teasing him endlessly; tonight would be devoted to waltzes and Ivy loved them, so it would be perfect for David to take their friend there, for a dancing night. Everything was running very smoothly, the orchestra were playing beautifully and Ivy seemed to be enjoying, she had not denied any dance to the many gentlemen who were willing to dance with her. David had been observing her, after encouraging Ivy to dance with others. That way, waltzing around, her friend was even more lovely and enchanting. Wills was right; 'Ivy was born to dance', he always remarked, 'she feels complete this way…' Yes, it was true, David thought, as he saw how the last waltz ended and Ivy curtsied to her dancing partner, returning to the table when he waited; he had never seen her more alive and he could well agree with anyone who told Ivy was indeed the most beautiful lady in the dance floor. The young handsome man stood up to greet her, as the musicians started another tune.

"_Will you honour me, Ivy?"_, he smiled brightly at the lady before him

Ivy just nodded. She was about to tell David she wished to go home, but she found out she could not deny him another dance; it wouldn´t be fair, for she had waltzed with many of the other gentlemen in the pavilion and she could not make an exception with David. Ivy was tired, the day had been very hard for her. But only dancing would she wash away, at least for a while, the persistent sadness which had haunted her since the early afternoon, when she interviewed and auditioned Conchita Rondón. She had tried hard to dance away the sorrow that copla singer had set up in her heart accepting dances with men who approached her. Many knew her reputation as a performer with the Murphy´s and wished to meet a famous star, others had just been drawn to her to take the chance and try their charms, it was not first time for her. But no one had ever crossed the line. They were just blank faces, only empty waltzes… it was not as she had dreamt it would be. She still danced alone and it would always be the same.

David began dancing their last waltz, as he let Ivy lead them into the steps. He was not a bad waltzer, at least not as bad as Wills, but every time he and Ivy shared a dance, he could not help but letting her be the dominant partner. He loved to see her dancing from a distance, even when they shared a tune together, and not for the first time he wondered why it had to be so, why Ivy showed herself so yet frightened when she was in the company of a man. She was a great friend, and an understanding lady, but David had began to think she had a heart of stone, though he had never dared to speak his feelings for her out loud. Ivy´s blue glassy eyes were gentle and kind, she had showed clearly she enjoyed his company, but never had she allowed him further approaching. Not a touch, not the slightest word of intimacy between them. Everybody in the company thought there was something deeper than friendship between them. But it wasn´t true, he had confessed to Wills. There was something which still kept Ivy away from him and from any other man.

He was haunted by that same old feeling this time, as he twirled around the dance floor with Ivy. Many of the dancing couples were waving their good byes, the night at the dancing pavilion was quickly ending. But Ivy seemed she could be waltzing forever, though there was a strange glow in her blue glassy eyes. As if she had been waiting for something to happen. As if she had always been so.

He looked down to her as they danced, into her blue glassy eyes, as deep as the deepest sea. And there was something which he saw, something which defined the glow of attractiveness he had been filled by, the first time Wills introduced them. She was lovely, so very lovely and fragile, so very magical when she danced…

The waltz was ending but it was not that which broke Ivy´s heart. It was another thing. It was to realise she did not want this to happen…

"_Ivy…"_, David whispered against her ear, as soft as a spring breeze

David had tried this to be a perfect moment, she felt, but it wasn´t. There will never be a perfect moment for her. It was a waste. She should have seen it before, she should have known… now, how could she ever tell him she did love him but not the same way? How could she ever explain she could love no one?

Stop it, Ivy.

Don´t let him do this.

Stop it. Or you will hurt him. You will hurt yourself once more.

"_Ivy…"_, he lifted her face with a gentle finger under her chin,_"Ivy, there´s something I have been meaning to ask you…"_

His face was inches far from her lips. Ivy shivered in fear. NO. Don´t ask me. Please, don´t tell me. Don´t speak; I know what you´re trying to say. Don´t tell me, because it hurts.

"_You and me, Ivy… we have been together since we met. Does it mean something to you, Ivy?"_, David asked as they stopped dancing.

"_Yes,", _she whispered back, as she managed to give David a shy smile, _"yes David, it means very much to me. You and Wills have taught me to live", _she told him sincerely, _"you have grown inviting memories in me and I could do anything for any of you… but no, Dave, my answer is no."_

"_Ivy, you didn´t know what I was about to…"_

Suddenly, David Murphy felt the most stupid man on earth. He was fooling it all. He was losing her! How could he have been so brainless, so foolish…! But Ivy, his lovely ever caring Ivy, smiled at him again, and put a tiny finger in his mouth.

"_Sssshhh… Hush, don´t say a word, David; stop explaining, please"_, she stood silent for a second and sighed. Ivy tried to choose her next words very carefully, there was no need to be cruel. _"I know what lies in your question. David you are a great man, I don´t want to hurt you…"_

"_How could you ever?"_, he opened his eyes wide, unable to believe what he was hearing,_ "Ivy, please, tell me, what is wrong? What have I done to spoil it all?"_

"_Oh, nothing, nothing at all! You haven´t ruined anything because there is nothing to ruin…"_

"_I feel stupid"_, he confessed, _"I should have never told you…"_

"_No, please, no", _she responded,_ "it´s only natural, it is NOT you, but me, don´t you see? God knows I´ve tried to love you other way, David, but I couldn´t. David, I appreciate how you feel about me but I can´t love you the way you deserve, I can´t love anyone at all…"_

1880,SOMEWHERE ELSE IN PARIS, THE SAME MORNING. A LUXURIOUS BROTHEL CALLED 'CAPRICE'.

The red haired mistress at the brothel had all her women gathered in the ladies´ private room at 'Caprice', as usual. It was always the same instructions before another pleasure night started. Do observe the rules –no private data given or asked, all tips accepted except cash, please your client and careful with forthcoming babies and uncomfortable infections. That was a good way to run a pleasure house like that, where only the ones who could pay for her courtesans were accepted. High class and wealthy men nearly crowded the place every night, for saunas, massages, and any kind of fantasy they could imagine. Everything could be possible at 'Caprice'. After all, it was all business…

Of course Livia was not her real name, very few had the privilege of calling her Mireille. It was a perfect cover, for the place had been a thermal house in Roman times, she had been told, and the courtesans used similar addressings. And she really admired Livia Augusta; one of the most powerful, manipulative and influent women in the whole ancient Roman Empire. She and perhaps Mesalina, but she did not like that name. 'Livia' sounded more imposing, royal like, it inspired class and respect. And nobody had style in her profession. But Livia had, for she understood she was paying a public service, she was taking care of men´s health that way and helping the women she had employed too, for they would have ended swallowed up by the worst of Paris underworld. You cannot stop all rapings and abuses to the rest, you cannot stop poor women from working the streets by night, exposed to terrible weather or backstreet gangs, but she had made of pleasure an art. The art of the possible. She took care of her women, fed and protected them, due to her influences, and for just a little amount of what they earned in return.

"_Now then",_ she began, _"we have fifteen clients for tonight. Patricia, you will have room three as usual, but Julia and Lidia will move to the sauna",_ she heard the girls giggling and went on, _"yes, we have the Marquis today for a massage, so I expect you to do as good as his first time, girls. Antonia, yours is room ten today with Ms Rouge, and next door you, Sabina…",_ she finished, her blue eyes gazing to a very tall girl in man´s clothes.

"_And what about me, madam?",_ a young blonde beauty asked

"_You´re not on duty today, Claudia, I´ll take your place with the new man",_ Livia answered, _"our client has asked for a red haired lady", she went on as Claudia nodded, "and paid three dates in advance",_ yes, it had been a good move that she hadn´t hired any reddish haired courtesan up to then, for that way Livia could sell her charms even more expensively. The man had paid extremely well, she thought, smiling to herself and touching one of the jewels in her necklace, _"so you´re in charge of drinks and payments tonight."_

"_Yes madam…"_

As graceful as a ballerina, Livia stood up and left the room to prepare herself for the new arrival. The English client.

1880, A HOTEL NEAR THE LOUVRE GARDENS. STILL THE SAME MORNING.

It was a beautiful afternoon in Paris. The woman stared at the sight of the Louvre Gardens, and alternatively spared another look to the cradle, where the baby was sleeping peacefully. So very beautiful, their child, she thought, and even more when she was sleeping. However, she was tempted sometimes to wake little Marina up and see blue glassy eyes wide open, curiously at the new world she was just discovering, hear her giggling, always trying to touch her face, unafraid.

'She thinks her mamma's beautiful, my love', Christian always told her, 'just like me…' Sometimes she simply smiled at the man before her, thankful. But others she felt Christian was lying, though she had never told him.

Twelve years had passed since Christian found her lying on the river bend. He immediately knew she wasn´t dead, with just one look at her face covered with blood. That good man cured her wounds, and took care of her, without asking what had happened. But, somehow, she had always known she would have to tell him, someday… when she felt strong enough to look at her face in the mirror. And face what she was now. She had done it weeks ago. And Christian had urged her to come to Paris.

She had been beautiful, once, when she was seventeen. Now she was nearly twenty years older, but she still remembered. He had sent white roses, everyday, to her house, and courted her insistently with alluring and overwhelming words. But she didn´t like him, she did not like the way he looked, the obsessed glints in his eyes. And she had answered no to his marriage proposal. Then, he vanished. But they did not know he had been observing her, watching her movements… waiting. Spying from the shadows.

Christian opened the door of the room and entered silently, not to wake up the sleeping baby girl in the cradle.

"_Everything is fixed",_ he told her, handling the passages, _"the ship leaves tomorrow morning, at dawn…"_

She smiled, as she always did when he looked at her that way. Christian was right. America was a good place. They could start a new life there, in a farm, away from the rest of the world. Where no one knew them. Where she had to see no one but her husband and the daughter they had. Not wearing wigs or veils anymore. Not hiding her face behind a mask.

Christian smiled compassionately. She was hurting terribly. But at least when they were alone, she did not wear that mask. The man took his wife´s hands, and kissed them lovingly.

He stopped talking to caress her face, not the sound sight . But the burnt one. He always did that.

"_What is it, Satine?",_ Her hand hurried for the mask, but he stopped her gently, yet firmly._"No",_ the man cut her off_, "you promised…"_

Satine lowered her eyes.

"_It´s her… I am worried Christian. She does not know…"_

1880 THE MORNING OF THE AUDITION. 8:30 A.M. STUDENTS' COMMON ROOM AT LE MIRAGE

It was nearly half past six and the school was unusually full of people. Pierre looked anxiously at his watch and then through the window of the students common room.. Another look he paid through the window pane. Louis was rushing his way to _Le Mirage _in his bicycle, crossing now the marble path. Well, for once in his life, the pianist would not make people wait.

Ayleen was sitting between Gloria and Daniel, also lost in thought, her hand wrapped and covered with a white globe. The two ballerinas had a serious look on their faces, 'too serious', Daniel thought, sweeping his eyes from one to another. Yet, the dark haired dancer had a satisfied look on his face. But Ayleen had behaved strangely about the forthcoming students meeting. She was worried, concerned, he could see, but she hadn´t said a word when he asked. What was all this thing about?

Veronique was biting her nails impatiently, waiting for Evelyn to come. Louis had bumped into the room and she had silently warned him not to start a quarrel again with Paulette. The writer had only mouthed a quiet 'hello' and took a seat on Vero´s right.

Dick surveyed the others´faces. Everyone looked worried or unwilling to speak. Today´s audition was important, yes, but not that much to be like this. However, the actor smiled approvingly. Tension was good before a performance. They would rock the audience, he thought, they would make Madame proud of them... 'You are prepared to make your choice, Richard', the teacher had told him early that morning, 'you can leave _Le Mirage'_; there´s nothing more I can teach you...' He had sensed a slight sad tone in her voice, Dick realised. But she was right. He could fly on his own to America, to join 'The Highlights' company...

Louis was the last student to have a look at the envelope Evelyn had taken with her.

"_What is it?"_, the writer asked as he saw the wedding invitation, to no one, to anyone, _"who has started the joke?"_

"_It is no joke, Louis"_, Veronique responded calmly, looking to Evelyn, _"Just listen to her…"_

Then, the young writer paid another look to the card, addressed to his classmate and her husband Etien, puzzled. He read the text again, dated in 1869 and carefully printed in blue ink…

_It is much pleasure for our families _

_To announce the engagement and forthcoming wedding _

_Of _Mdlle **Eve Marie Silvie**,

only daughter of François and Eve Isabelle Depreaux,

And Ms _**Adrian Joseph**__, _

_oldest son of widowed Baroness Helen Louise de Letissieur._

_The civil marriage will take place next __**June 18**__**th**____ at the _**London Royal Court**, half past eleven.

**Your confirmation is kindly required**

Louis could hardly hear Evelyn´s voice speaking aloud their teacher´s story. A sad story about a young girl who had dreams about being a ballet dancer from her early childhood, a girl who once met an English gentleman during a performance in the Garnier Opera House, nearly ten years ago. He could imagine her, in that same house, getting ready for another date with a certain nobleman, so excited because, that night, she suspected she would be asked to marry the one she loved most. Love. Madame Ivy had had a love once. She had loved him so much that she had left her studies at the Ballet Liceum, she had gone as far as rejecting her own dreams to please his fianceè´s expectations and leave her family to travel to live to somewhere in the far and away England.

Louis could almost read the letters she wrote to her parents every week as Evelyn narrated the story. Those letters which spoke of a forthcoming happiness… soon, so soon, she would announce the so long expected pregnancy to give an heir to the Letissieur family. As Evelyn went on, six years passed; no one in Paris saw the girl who had ballet dreams again, not even when her father died, not until her mother got seriously ill and she travelled back to assist her in the last hours. Evelyn could not hide the concern in her voice when she described the day of Madame´s mother´s burial. Their teacher was pale, skinny, she seemed drained of all energy, 'as if she had lost everything in the world', Evelyn said, looking around, 'and her husband, the Baron, had not travelled with her as it should have been'. There were no more stage dreams, no endless love, no children and no loving husband. There was nothing.

Some of the students thought Evelyn Rouge was only telling a story, it wasn´t Madame Ivy the woman she was speaking about, it was only a plot from any unknown play. But no. It was no plot. It was simply the plain truth. No one interrupted Evelyn up to the end of her story, but then, before anyone could utter a single word, Gloria started a second act. When the English ballerina entered the Murphy´s Brothers academy in London, Ivy Depreaux was already a leading star in the company. She was an excellent dancer, a talented actress and quite an accomplished soprano, and she had even begun composing. Unlike Evelyn, Gloria remembered Madame Ivy as a very nice woman, charming, sensitive and quite strong willed. Gloria had seen her there teaching ballet in the very early morning hours, learning fencing in the afternoon and performing every single night on stage, always smiling, never complaining, always ready to learn new things. It had been she who had got Sir David and lady Grace together, she who organised their wedding party and took Lady Grace´s place in the school during the honeymoon and her following pregnancy, until the twins were born. She, together with Sir William, had organised the first tour of the company around Ireland, and there, she had met and danced with Julian Atwood, Daniel´s father.

"_I can´t see the point of this"_, Pierre interrupted then, _"I´m sorry, Gloria, but I have heard Sir William telling this story a thousand times…"_

"_I know, Pierre, dear"_, she responded, _"but there are many things Sir William does not know. Part of the Murphy´s Brother travelled to Spain after Ireland; Sir David, his wife and Madame Ivy remained in London to prepare a new production. And it was then, during the premiere, that Madame´s husband appeared again"_

No one dared to say a word. They had been told the girls had seen the Baron at the Opera cafe'… What if he did it again, passing by the school on Friday?

"_It seemed Madame´s performance hurt the man in some way, for they had an awful quarrel after the number."_, Gloria went on, emphatically, _"The Letissieur family reported our company to the Censorship Office, and we had to pay an exorbitant fee to prevent the theatre to be closed."_

"_No, no, wait a minute, Gloria"_, Daniel stopped her then, _"now you don´t mean this… sort of a man has come to Paris to do the same… to ruin our audition? This is ridiculous! What profit would he gain if he does so? "_

"_It is not a profit, Daniel", _Ayleen spoke firmly for the first time, _"think of it: even if he only wants to see her, for she would not simply smile and bid him welcome to Le Mirage…Perhaps you don´t understand, gentlemen, what a woman´s heart can feel when you men take it for granted. "_

"_But this is not the only important thing, in my opinion", _Veronique added softly, _"I mean, I appreciate Madame, as much as the rest of you. But what if something happens? What if this…"_, she could not find the exact word to define the Baron, without using an unlady like term, _"comes again and forms her a scandal? Are we ready to take that risk? Will we let him hurt her again?"_

There was a moment of timeless silence in the students´ common room. Not a single student dared to break it. They were her family, they knew, her children, the only thing she had to lean on to… and she had always been there, training them, encouraging their steps and moulding their talents. They could not let her down…

Louis was the first to raise his hand after Evelyn's suggestion. But he was quickly followed by the rest. Even ever-giggling Pierre, who never took anything seriously, had a serious and determined expression on his face when they finally reached the agreement.

THE DAY OF THE AUDITION. JUST AFTER THE SCHOOL WALTZ NUMBER.

All too soon, the magic of the School Waltz ended and Tony bowed genteelly to his partner, taking her hand and guiding her off of the dance floor. It would not be fair to keep her from her duties as a hostess though, deep inside, he would have wanted to have her in his arms for an eternity.

_"Thank you, Ivy. I hope that you will spare at least one more dance with me, before we are through?"_ His eyes looked at her questioningly, silently waiting for her answer.

This question took her by surprise. Under other circumstances, Ivy would have kindly declined, but something she could not define told her this was different. She was not scared, she did not want to run and hide… she felt completely free to take the chance and enjoy. After all, she was still safe in her school, where nobody could hurt her, where she was completely in charge of her emotions.

Of all of them.

"_Yes, of course, Tony"_, the dance they shared had left a beautiful trace of happiness in the smile she offered to the conductor, _"we still have something more to offer my students: an audition together"_

Yes, a number together, he had not forgotten. Tony was normally very reserved with the music he composed, working on the score endlessly until he was completely sure the piece was ready to see the light, to be shared with others. But he had realised this time was different. Wills' words had encouraged him to choose that extremely personal composition for the occasion, but also, he wanted to see her dance. He wanted to test whether that exceptional lady was what he could barely see by the way she moved, the look in her eyes. She was too sad to be so beautiful; she had confessed him she felt too lonely. And he somehow wanted to make her alive.

"_How could I not remember?"_, he dedicated her another charming smile, _"I was waiting for your words to start…"_

And, as gently as he had done moments before, Tony took Ivy´s hand, guiding her to the centre of the stage room and before she could utter another sound, he called the students again.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, your attention once more, please"_, the conductor waited until the chatters ended and, too strangely without releasing Ivy´s hand, he introduced the number, _"when I was offered the opportunity to join you all in this audition, I did not expect for a moment to have such a warm welcome on your part, and this I must thank you and your School Mistress. Now it is time to fulfill one request Madame Ivy made to me when she greeted me to Le Mirage. It is my pleasure to present to you a humble contribution to this wonderful class, with my latest composition: the Maid in The Water, and Madame Ivy herself dancing for all of us…"_

The ovation they received was simply indescribable, so warm and full of affection that it made Ivy blush furiously. Wills smiled from his seat. That was marvellous, simply beyond words. He saw her on stage, after so much time, curtsying to an audience she knew so well, and under the notes of an admired musician. Nothing could go wrong this time.

Ivy waited patiently until the conductor took a seat by the piano. She was extraordinarily calmed and relaxed, her body and her mind ready to receive a piece of that unique music, that one she had been admiring for so long in the distance. And, when he first touched the piano, giving her an introductory chord, she felt it again.

The magic of dance, the wonderful warmth of music. In a second, Ivy was transported to a new place, somewhere where dreams could be true, where things could be different. She could feel it in her veins. The water, the breeze. The ocean. In a second, her body floated in the water, away of all harm, full of energy. She was once more young, she was again that girl who once had ballet dreams, who once believed everything was possible. With each moment, with every pirouette and movement, she was brought to life, she was driven to the place the conductor had dreamt of. A wonderful beach she had walked once, under the light of a full moon, alone and sad that time. But now, she would not be lonely anymore…

She was, for some instants, a Maid in the Water.

-END OF CHAPTER SEVEN- (more soon)


	8. Chapter 8 Candles in winter

CHAPTER EIGHT:

**CHAPTER EIGHT: **_**"Candles in winter"**_

I still remember that part of the story, when they described that very first performance together. We all stayed silent, just listening how Mamma described the music which brought her to life again and the smile on my dad´s face was more and more evident as she spoke. _"The Maid in the Water"_, was one of my dad´s most famous pieces, one he had written very personally, all critics agreed. Now we knew exactly why.

And there was another thing, apart from Mamma´s beautiful words, which made me imagine the scene as clearly as if I had lived it in person. A portrait, one we had hanging on the wall in our living room, of a red haired ballerina dressed in blue, dancing in the ocean. The picture had the same title and it had been signed by one of Le Mirage artists at that time, Louis Nouveaux, and … I could feel that young painter had produced his piece of artwork that very same day…

I perfectly remember all the names of the artists who had formed the very first promotion at Le Mirage Institute of Performing Arts. Ayleen Viels, Daniel Atwood, Paulette Loren and Veronique Noguet, Pierre Passarino, Gloria Morgan, Richard Mahoney, Corinne Savonne and Louis Nouveaux. They had been Mamma´s first dream, her first companions in a wonderful journey. Some of them had stayed with her, such as sweet Ayleen, who had been promoted first to ballet teacher and then to School Mistress, always with Daniel´s company, when Mamma finally retired. Some of them had found their own way in the show business world, like Veronique, Dick or Gloria; or even found families themselves, just like Pierre or Paulette. Others, such as Corinne Savonne, had become part of my own family when she married my step brother Marshall. But others were no longer with us.

Like Louis Nouveaux; the writer and painter.

My mother´s most talented student.

All that remained of him was a new building with his name, sponsored by his father, and the picture hanging on the wall of our living room. He had been murdered; the same year Ivy Depreaux and Antonius Batistelli met, and for me, that episode had always been a mystery, until that night. The night when our parents narrated their story.

(TIME LINE: Last days of October, 1777. Ayleen Viels. Garnier Opera House, Paris)

She saw the girl before her on the list entering the office. Ayleen had been sitting there, on a wooden chair in the Opera corridor, for what she had thought ages after the casting for the ballet corps. She knew she had to wait up to the end of the interviews, it had always been that way… but it was so hard! That was the problem of her surname, Viéls. She always had to wait the whole list before she was finally called.

The blonde girl bit her nails for the thousandth time. She had come from Toulouse to attend that audition… all her hopes and her dreams to enter the famous ballet company locked inside her ballet pointes. Would she be finally chosen? Oh, she had to be, Ayleen prayed, she could NOT come back home! Not after all the time she had invested, dreamt of that day, the long hours´work to save some francs to pay, first her ballet classes, then her pointes, and finally, hopefully, her one way ticket to Paris.

Paris. The city of Light and Arts. The city of Love. The very home of French ballet style.

Ayleen had felt overwhelmed when she first stepped on the Grand Foyer, looking for the ballet practise room where the audition was to be held. Never in her whole life had she seen a vaster ballet studio, ready to host a full fifty members company, its wooden floor carefully polished, the resin boxes to step on in pointes already full, two impressive ballet barrès, and an even more amazing full-size mirror on the front wall. When she got into the room, there was nobody there. 'Too early, Ayleen', she thought, feeling as small as a fly, taking a seat, as she was already wearing her ballet clothes under her coat.

She had sat down to wait, knowing it was going to be a very long and hard day.

Meanwhile. Ivy´s dressing room at Le Mirage.

No, she would go alone to visit the Opera and book the tickets. Wills did not need to know she still had a box there, as the Baroness of Letissieur; he had enough with his work as a part time voice trainer at the Conservatorium and his help in Le Mirage. The sole thought of it stirred in Ivy´s mind, as images from her last performance in London with the Murphy´s came to her mind. Poor David! How hard it had been for him to know the truth, how painful to know she was leaving the company, and most of all, WHY she had to leave.

Fortunately, things now were different for her friends in London. David and Grace had returned from their honeymoon in Viena, and the letter from her girlfriend announcing she was expecting a baby had filled Ivy´s heart with the greatest happiness of all. And also with the most bitter pain in her heart, but she would never admit it out loud. Grace did not deserve that. She deserved the man she had married, yes, the perfect, sweetest gentleman Dave was. He would have never been happy with her, Ivy knew, and she had pushed him away, politely, but determinedly. They would be lifetime friends, family, but never a couple. Because she couldn´t.

She hadn´t have time to think of that for months, as frantic work to finally open Le Mirage kept her crazily, thankfully busy. Thank God Wills was with her in that. Her parent´s chateaux had been completely renewed, rooms transformed into classes, the whole house redecorated and filled with mirrors, light colours and roses, a million roses, the garden cleaned and re-planted and a beautiful parlour built in the very middle of the bush labyrinth. There, Ivy would sit to admire her dream, everyday, to enjoy the silence and the music her students would make in the school. For her, just for her ears. Thirty students had already confirmed their enrolling, after the castings she had made, and some classes were already full. She knew Wills was extremely proud of her, and glad to see she was fighting for her own future. Ivy smiled as she carefully put her hat on. That would pay all her tears and shattered dreams back.

Simultaneously. Ayleen Viels. The corridor at the Garnier Opera House.

Ayleen was still staring at the door, minutes after the girl before her on the list left. She waited, holding her breath, until the door opened again and she was allowed to enter. Not for a second did the idea that she hadn´t entered the corps crossed her mind. No, it could not be, she had to wait; maybe they were deciding about her before letting her in. Yes, that was it. Because she hasn´t been sponsored by any ballet academy, any private tutor or noble name. But the casting rules did not say a word about it, she thought to herself. They wanted ballerinas for their next production, and Ayleen could dance! She had been storing that dream since she was a child, at the parish school, when she was encouraged to play Cinderella in the Christmas festival. Then, she had discovered her whole body shivered every time she heard music being played, and the feeling always urged her to dance. Can it be called a talent? She did not know. But Ayleen could only step forward, she had not come from so far to back up now. 'If I have to wait, I will', she said to herself. Yes she would not move from her seat in the corridor until that door was opened again. For her.

Her eyes strayed up to the end of that corridor in the Opera, longing, for a second, to visit the back stage, to see the boxes where the nobles would attend performances, to admire the huge chandelier they said hang over the audience heads. Perhaps she could go and find the door to the stage herself. It was all so very dark! She consulted her watch again; it was nearly one o´clock and she wondered if the theatre ever closed its doors to the public. Ayleen remembered the other girls in the audition chatting about the building. It wasn´t prudent to walk the theatre alone, if one got lost, one never came back to the light. The thought frightened her, so much than what she had thought, freezing her on the chair. What if nobody came to call her into the office? Should she wait there, in the corridor, forever? What was the object of all that?

Le Mirage headmaster´s office

"_No Wills, I told you"_, Ivy said, determinedly, _"I´d rather go to Garnier alone…"_

"_But Ivy…"_, he protested

"_Oh, please! Why are you so obstinate, Mr Murphy?"_, she added, pleading to Wills, _"you have class in the Conservatorium. You cannot come with me."_

"_Oh yes, but it is so boring…!"_

"_I need you to be there now"_, Ivy insisted, _"I need your experience there, I need to learn how they rule the place to improve the system, Wills, to learn how to head Le Mirage. You´ve been a wonderful teacher"_, she smiled, _"you´ve taught me everything I know about the Performing Arts and for that I will be forever thankful to you, my friend… But this, Wills, I must do it alone. Do you understand?"_

"_No, I don´t, Ivy. It is only a box hiring, a box which, as you told me, you have always had at Garnier, although you never mentioned it before. I don´t get the point why you want to make the reservation alone"_, he responded, _"but it is all the same. You´ll do it your way…"_

"_Exactly. "_, Ivy smiled to her former tutor and stage brother, _"Wills, do not get me wrong"_, she added, most sincerely, _"but one of the best things you taught me was to decide myself about my life, and never let anyone else do it for me. Please, let me put in practise what I learnt…" _

The carriage stopped at the gates of the Conservatorium and Ivy waited for her friend to leave.

"_Alright, Ms Self-sufficient"_, Wills teased her when Ivy stepped of the habson cab to say goodbye, _"you win this battle, but not the war, I won´t stop until I see you on stage again…"_

"_Wills…"_

"_And let me tell you something more, missy"_, he grinned, _"my students are curious about you, Ivy…"_

"_Oh no", _she giggled too, acting overwhelmed.

"_Yes, mademoiselle, it is serious. They have started wondering who you are. And someday, I will take them to visit you at Le Mirage…"_

"_Wills, you´ll be late…"_

"_That´s fine, I´m the teacher. I can be late…"_

Ivy watched Wills entering the school, a smile on her face. Somehow, she knew her friend wasn´t joking. And one of these days, he would appear at Le Mirage, with a whole class ready for a tour. Ivy could not help but chuckle, leaving the thought aside as she ordered the coachman a new direction: the Garnier Opera House.

"_Which name did you say, madam?"_

"_Eve de Letissieur"_, Ivy responded, trying not to sound annoyed. She had repeated that name twice to the Opera employee and she was starting to lose her nerves, _"and the box is number ten…"_, she added, just to check.

After some seconds looking through the papers, the man seemed to find the one he was looking for. Ivy sighed.

"_Oh yes, here it is, madam le Baroness"_, the man finally replied, handling her the booking file.

Ivy quickly went through it. Yes, it was as she had calculated. The booking fee was fifty francs, a price worth paying, though a little bit expensive. But yet, Adrian had loved expensive things, so she would maintain the box in his name. He had loved to be seen in the Opera, to have a good seat to show himself in public. Now she would use the box in her own profit, making a good reward of it for hard working students. She would grant the best of them free tickets in box ten for especial performances and concerts.

"_That´s perfect, thank you very much, monsieur…"_, she smiled charmingly, her eyes sparkling with relief as she signed the form, _"but, I am wondering something…"_

"_Oh, if I can be of any use…"_

"_Yes, indeed you can, monsieur"_, Ivy said, _"I´d like to know if, with either my consent or the Baron´s, we can let other people use our box. Of course, we assume this might increase the monthly fee"_, she added, _"to, let´s say about…"_

"_The extra fee is only twenty-five francs more, should you wish to receive guests in your box, madam"_, the man finished the sentence for her, _"you know, waitering service must be paid as an extra"_

"_Money is not a problem monsieur". _Yes, it had never been and it wasn´t now. Because Adrian would also pay for that, Ivy thought, smiling. _"Where do I have to sign?___

"_Here, madam"_, the man indicated a space in the form, and then handled Ivy a book of tickets, _"just make sure your guests present these tickets to our usherettes…"_

Ayleen Viels. The corridor in the Opera House.

Half past one. Thirty minutes had passed, and the door did not open. Ayleen had began feeling confused, then uncomfortable and finally, her thoughts had led her to panic. What would happen now? Where would she go? She had no friends in Paris, there was nowhere she could go if she hadn´t been accepted.

"_No, Ayleen, don´t think that, there should be a mistake…"_

She had begun to speak to herself, trying to keep the weak calm she was having now. She mentally recalled her steps during the audition. She had been good at the barrè, though a little bit doubtful and shaking legs, but she doubted it could have been noticed by anyone. Her hair strictly tied on a knot, her new tutu inmaculate white, she had posed all the positions right and made her pliés and rond de jambes correctly…

She stood up, and knocked on the door of the office,

"_Hello? May I come in?", _Ayleen tried, a weak whisper in her voice

No answer. Nothing. Just silence. After some seconds, she insisted again.

"_Is anybody there?___

She looked around, trying to catch the slightest sound. There was no noise. She tried on the handle… to find the door had been locked from inside. Painfully, cruelly locked.

It was over. She had been rejected. Pushed back. And without a reason.

Ivy left the booking office at the Opera feeling strange. She had finally got it, a box she would use on the behalf of her school.But she would never go herself to join an Opera performance. No, she knew she could not do it. Once, she had tried to live her life, and then Adrian had come to threaten her again, using the ones she loved most to hurt her. She still felt regretful for that. If she hadn´t tried, so foolishly, to enter the show business world and be known world wide, if she had preserved her anonimity, maybe Adrian would not have chased her. That was why she had decided to leave the stage world, despite Wills´protests. She wouldn´t be an actress anymore, she would not act, dance or sing in public again. But she could make her students shine for her. That was something Adrian could never take from her, an illusion she still had unwasted.

Ivy sighed. She would have loved to perform here, in this famous theatre. But there were dreams she was not allowed to dream; not even to think of for a second. She had to resign herself, and never think of it anymore. Otherwise, others would be hurt…

She was lost in dire thoughts, as she left the magnificent Grand Foyer, when her ears caught a desperate and heartbroken cry, coming from somewhere in a corridor to her left. Slowly, Ivy strolled to where the noise came from, finding a young girl sitting on a wooden chair. She was wearing ballet clothes under her worn out coat. Unhurriedly Ivy strolled to the crying blonde young lady… imagining, somehow, what had happened.

Ayleen could not stop crying. All hope was gone. What would happen now? Where would she go? If only they had told her… she could have endured it… That would have been all she needed to know. But no. It had been a cruel, sharp silence what she got in return, and a shut door.

"_Shhh… don´t waste your tears, cherie. It´s only business for them."_ she heard, in a distance, a lady´s voice speaking softly to her.

As Ayleen looked up to see who it was, she found an elegant blue eyed lady, smiling sweetly at her. By the look she could see in the older woman´s eyes, Ayleen knew, somehow, that lady knew what had happened.

"_It was… being accepted here was all that I had…"_, the girl whispered, unable to stop weeping, _"I have come from far to audition for Garnier… oh Dieu! what shall I do now? What?"_

Ayleen´s voice was a silent sharp knife to Ivy´s heart. This was the part of the offstage business she really hated. She took the girl´s hand in an understanding gesture.

"_As far as I can see, you only have two options, dear. You can go back home"_, Ivy muttered softly, _"or test if you can make it again, in time…"_

Ayleen looked up at her, confused. That red haired lady was offering her a handkerchief to brush away her tears, smiling very sweetly. It was the first person with a sincere smile she had seen since she came to Paris.

"_Allow me to introduce myself"_, Ivy went on, determined to be of as much help as she could, _"I am Ivy Depreaux, cherie. And your name is…"_

"_Ayleen, madam"_

"_Good, Ayleen. I bet you shall need a hot drink, and a perhaps a chat. Will you allow me with your company?"_, Ivy finished, offering the blonde girl a friendly hand. She smiled comfortingly when Ayleen accepted.

"_We´ll go to my school",_ the red haired woman had said, _"we´ll see what exactly you have locked under your shoes…" _Ayleen could not take her eyes from the lady she had just met in the Opera, very curious to know more about her. She knew her name, Madame Depreaux, and she had been told moments before she ruled a newly founded school somewhere near the Opera, in a district called La Madeleine. Ayleen was also curious about the school, and the beautiful inspiring name it had. Le Mirage. The name evoked mirrors, fantasies and illusions to Ayleen. The many dreams ballet had brought to her mind. The dreams some careless Opera employee had just broken.

Ayleen´s mouth drew wide open when the carriage reached the school.

"_Mon Dieu! This is breathtaking, Madame!"_, she stared at the woman, astonished, _"what a wonderful garden!"_

Ivy giggled softly. Up to then, she had met no one who didn´t consider these gardens beautiful. Her father would be proud of her, as proud as Wills was, as proud of herself as Ivy felt.

"_I am glad you like it, Ayleen"_, she friendly responded, _"I tried my best to restore them and give a good atmosphere. For what we have inside the school is really art. But, of course, it is not finished…"_

Jesus, this lady had to be very wealthy, Ayleen thought to herself. In just minutes, her life had changed, to a most surprising extent, thanks to this kind lady. Ayleen stared at her as Ivy enjoyed the view of the gardens while the carriage entered the property. It was a nice thing, this visit, but the school fees would be probably expensive…

A maid stepped to the main entrance and waited in front of the carriage, to take Ivy´s velvet cloak. Ayleen blushed furiously when she had to give her that old grey coat. 

"_Thank you, Charity"_, Ivy mused, and the maid nodded, _"could you please find professor Caronse and tell her I'd like to meet her in the ballet room?___

"_Yes, Madame…"_

Ivy led the astonished girl upstairs. It all smelt to fresh paintings, and some parts of the school were still being restored. But, on the whole, Ayleen could see, with wide open admiring eyes, what this chateaux was turning into, thanks to Madame Ivy´s touch. The older woman opened a wooden door in front of them, and welcomed Ayleen inside with a wide smile.

"_This is our ballet room, Ayleen, please, make yourself comfortable while I get changed, will you?___

Leaving a scent of roses after her, Ivy disappeared to her small dressing room, the most private part of Le Mirage, one only she could use. That little room was her shelter, the place where Ivy had all her most cherished things stored. Wills was still very insisting that she should move to a wider room, but that had been, in her childhood times, her play room. And now, it was the only thing she preserved from her magic past as an actress. She felt comfortable there, as if time hadn´t passed, as if she still were in London, with the Brothers. With her family.

Brushing her sad thoughts away, Ivy sighed and opened the wardrobe to get changed. In seconds, she was wearing ballet clothes and her red long hair tied in a pony tail, feeling transformed and somehow alive again.

"_Well, my dear, let´s get started…"_, Ivy announced with a gentle smile as she led another woman into the ballet room, _"this is Elyane Caronse, Ayleen, our ballet pianist at Le Mirage. She will help us find out about your ballet spirits…"_

A brown eyed woman in her early forties smiled wide to Ayleen, knowing from Madame Ivy´s tone she had brought another aspirant to the school, one who didn´t know yet she was currently auditioning. The more Elyanne knew about her employer, the more she liked her. Indeed Madame Ivy Depreaux had a heart of gold, and an undoubting ability to make new arrivals comfortable.

Ivy waved the girl to a spot in front of the mirror, in the middle of the ballet room.

"_Ayleen, every time I feel sad"_, she said, _"I try to brush away dark thoughts with dancing. Let´s see if I can brush your sadness away, dear…"_

Ivy took the girl´s hand then, very gently, and made her stroll to the barre'.Ayleen found her touch soft, and very welcoming.

"_Efface derriere, mademoiselle"_, Ivy instructed softly as she faced Ayleen, her right hand gracefully over her head and the matching leg stretched on the floor, _"series of pique pliés, tadu, jette,grand plié and then relevé on your pointes… understood?Your eyes at the level of my forehead, Ayleen, so that you can guess my steps, right?"_

Ayleen nodded quickly as she tried to remember Madame´s intructions. She was blushing furiously red, for Ivy had fixed a deep, somehow intimate gaze on her.

"_Elyanne, will you please accompany us with Shubbert´s Sonnet in E-Flat?"_

"_Of course, Madame…"_, the teacher smiled, knowing very well by now, how much Madame Ivy loved that piece.

The music began and Ayleen stood a second, frozen at the barre', waiting for Madame Ivy to begin. As the first muffled chords from the piano started to fly in the ballet room, Ivy felt it, blood running through her veins, and her heart beating in time with Shubbert´s magic score. Her pliés came smooth, quiet, subdued to the magic of the music, her arms were wings, and she could fly, gracefully, charmingly, floating over the notes… not for a second she closed her eyes, they were fixed on that girl´s, calming, full of confidence and brightness… 'Dance is hope', they said, 'dance is our salvation… movement… gloom… expression…'

She could recall, for a second, her days in England, rehearsing with Grace and the Brothers. Wills at the piano, and David playing the cello, they both turned Schubbert´s piece into a wonderful thing. One Grace and she could dance for. A wonderful quartet.

'Make love to the music', Wills had said during that rehearsal, as his only one, strange, instruction, 'Music is your lover tonight, dance for your lover…'

A warm, moving sensation, had filled Ivy´s heart that day. And then it was. The image. Her unknown dancing partner, for the first time. He had danced with her, in the shadows of the ballet studio, hidden in the notes of the two instruments´duet, floating in her pointes, living in her movements…

…there will be arms to hold you, Ivy… there will be one to wrap you, comfort you and care for you… there will always be me… to teach you how to be lonely… to guide you how to be your one companion…

As Ivy danced along Schubbert´s piece, she heard, again in her mind, those words from the steamy danseur she always imagined dancing with her, though his face was shadowy and distant, his face unclear and his figure blurred . But it did not matter. After all, her dreams was all that she had, it was everything to put up with her lonely life… the piano wavy notes brought him to her mind… as always… and Adrian was not there to cut her wings right now…

_Dance, sad ballerina, dance,_

_do your pirouettes_

_in rhythm with your aching heart,_

_Dance, sad ballerina, dance,_

_you mustn´t once forget_

_a dancer has to dance the part,_

_once you said that love must wait its turn,_

_now you know this turn will never come_

He would have a gentle voice, a charming smile…tender and sparkling eyes will look at her, from head to toes, finding she was the most astonishing, the most stunning girl in the whole world. Someday, they would meet, and he would ask for a dance with her, one day… he would be at her door, one night, and she would not wonder if it was real or just her imagination. She would feel the dancer at her side, a pounding heart in tune to the music they would share, and something in the touch of his hand would tell her not to be afraid…

_Dance, sad ballerina, dance,_

_But your must not forget,_

_Your life is due to live and learn…_

_Laugh in your sadness, lone ballerina…_

…_just dance…_

At the barre', Ayleen followed that lady´s careful instructions. Madame Ivy had stopped dancing with her, after the last grand pliè, and now her fingers corrected the positions of her elbows, they only touched the air to guide her. The lady had a very gloomy look on her face, Ayleen realised; her eyes were cloudy, and sad, very sad… more and more sadder as the music went on, as the melody grew and faded, those eyes turned heartbreaking, pitiful. Yearning and nostalgic.

'It is fading', Ivy thought as the music score ended and the though stroke her heart and broke it. Her danceur was pirouetting away, dancing once more to the shadows. Outside, the teacher in her watched the girl´s movement in attention, correcting the positions of her pliés, and marking steps with a soft hand… but inside, very deep inside, she felt it. Music was killing her, softly, sweetly, but it stirred her heart as the melody went on, as the pain in her soul drew wider and almost unbearable to resist. She would never dance again, there would be no more memories of first nights, of so many laughs shared with the Brothers. On stage. In her world. From now on, she would only feed on others' dreams. If it had been her decision, if it was really the best thing to do… why was it all so painful?

"_Madame, are you alright?",_ it was this girl´s shy voice what took Ivy out of her painful thoughts. Ayleen was staring at her, for music had stopped and Ivy hadn´t noticed.

"_Yes… yes darling, do not worry…it´s just…",_ she managed to utter, _"it´s Schubert´s music…"_ Ivy sighed, and tried to concentrate on her task, _"your steps got the light, but no one has taught you how to show it, Ayleen… how long have you been dancing?"_

The young lady blushed as red as a tomato.

"_Ten years, Madame… but never professionally",_ she finally admitted, _"I expected to have done it at Garnier"_

"_Ayleen, dear, don´t take me wrong, but you´re not prepared for the stage. Not yet",_ Ivy tried to sound as soft and understanding as possible, _"you will be, in time… if you let me train you, here, in the school…"_

Her eyes widened. Ayleen had never seen anyone else dancing so beautifully, so perfect Madame´s steps and flourishes. She danced as elegant as a swam… how could she ever think of entering such a prestigious school?

"_But Madame, I cannot pay",_ she responded, _"it´s just two days since I am in Paris, and I just have money to stay ten more…"_

"_Time enough to find you a job, and a decent place to live, my dear",_ Ivy gently took the girl´s hands and smiled, _"unless you are frightened and decide to back out…"_

She did not know how she could find the strength to trust Madame Ivy. But Ayleen found herself nodding at Ivy´s words in no time.

_"That would be..."_Ayleen stuttered, _"Oh, that would be..."_

"_Marvellous, I know",_ Ivy finished, _"but also hard, Ayleen. You must be prepared to learn the secrets of French ballet style, to study choreographies, to rehearse until all your muscles stir in pain. There would be injuries, and times where I would expect from you much more that what´s expected",_ Ivy fixed her eyes on Ayleen, waiting for an answer, _"Hard work is what would take you to the Opera, in time… and then, no one will dare lock a door to you again…"_

Winter 1777. Veronique Noget. Montblanc station,Paris

Veronique Noget sighed happily as she stepped off the train. She was smiling brightly, despite the two heavy cases she carried. For at last, she was here. In Paris. it had been a long way journey from her hometown, two train transfers and and several hours waiting at the station, wrapped around her heavy corduroy coat. But she had finally made it. The day she had always hoped to arrive was here, at last.

It was not that she hadn´t been happy home, helping Father in his craftsman´s work. Vero had learnt many things working with him hand in hand, but this trip to Paris was something especial, something both had always assumed for certain, something Veronique HAD to do. 'If you really want to be a ballerina, I won´t deny it, child', Father had told her many times, 'this village is too small for you, you need a wider vision of life...'

That was exactly what Vero was looking for; a way of making a living in the Arts, dancing, if possible, but she would not deny putting in practise all the things Father had taught her to turn simple plain wood into beautiful articles to sell. That was a man´s task, true, but he hadn´t had a boy, and his girl had proved very skilful in carpenter´s work. Vero had a profession, and should this prove unsuccessful, should she fail entering the arts academy, she could always return home and take care of their workshop.

Veronique looked around, trying to find a free carriage to hire. She had time enough to arrive at the school, for her interview had been arranged at noon. Madame Ivy Depreaux would receive her then and so she would know whether she could be finally accepted...

The girl stopped a habson cab, and after the coachman helped her with her two heavy cases, the red head got into the coach.

_"Where to, mademoiselle?",_ the man asked

_"La Madeleine district",_ Vero responded, _"Rue Montpelieur number three..."_

The man nodded. He knew the address.

_"A new student to Le Mirage?"_

_"Sorts of", _she giggled, _"better a candidate for now..."_

Meanwhile. Paulette Loren.Le Mirage visitors´waiting room

_"Amá, please stop it...",_ Paulette turned to her mother, who had been crying since they entered the school.

_"Oh Pau!",_ Regine could not help a big sigh, _"It´s just... I can´t still believe you´re leaving us to stay in Paris!"_

Pelayo was sitting next to his wife. He had said nothing up to then, but Paulette had worked very hard, fulfilling all his requirements, to finally travel to Paris. Ten days before, a letter had been sent to their village, Rennes le Chateaux. Paulette was telling them she had successfully passed her audition with Madame Depreaux. Now she had a flat near the academy with a schoolmate, a nice girl called Ayleen they had met for breakfast, and they had been invited personally by the school mistress, Madame Depreaux, to visit and watch what their girl was exactly doing in Paris.

_"Aita, tell her something", _Paulette exclaimed, _"she can´t be crying all the time! What would Madame say?"_

_"Pau, you must understand your mother",_ Pelayo replied, turning gentle dark eyes at her daughter, the apple of his eye, _"it has been too much in a very few days..."_

Just one look to her. Paulette and her father had always had a kind of magical connection, something which had linked them further than only the loved shared between father and daughter. The dark haired girl turned then to her mother, and embraced her in a tight hug,

_"Amá, this is what I want to do",_ she whispered, _"I am happy here. The school is wonderful, and Madame too, you´ll see when you meet her. She´s been a great ballet star, and a very gentle and kind lady..."_

_"Yes but..."_

_"Madame Ivy is very careful with her students, Amá. She has aimed me to take ballet and music lessons apart from drama. She thinks I have talent!"_

Louis Nouveaux. One hour before. Ivy´s office at Le Mirage

"_You come back home with me this instant!", _he ordered.

The boy looked at him, an unusual glance of determination in his eyes when he answered.

"_No Father, I won´t", _Louis spoke in such a resolute tone that he might have thought it wasn´t him the one saying no to his own father.

Albert laughed mockingly,

"_Ah, no?"_, he questioned disdainfully, _"and who says so?", _he looked around sneeringly, _"do you think a poor little nothing like you can still make a living in the arts?Love, inspiration… poems…books… this is all for ladies, you idiot!"_, he paid a scornful look to the woman who said to be his son´s new tutor. Surely she wanted all the family´s money, taking advantage of this fool crazy idea of becoming a writer, _"you will never go far thinking like that!"_

"_I don´t want to go any far, Father, I want to stay, and learn all what she has to teach me", _Louis insisted, _"this is my decision, and you cannot change it."_

"_Oh really?"_, he laughed again, using an insulting tone, _"and what if I stop paying your assignation? What will you do then, you good-for-nothing sissy thing?!"_

"_Enough monsieur!"_, Ivy said, suddenly standing up. At last, that man had made her lose her patience, _"the interview is over!"_

Albert looked at the woman, suddenly flabbergasted. No one had ever ordered him to shut up, and never, never a lady. He would have shown her, he would have if not for…

Ivy had pulled the chordbell in time. She wanted that man out of her school, as soon as possible.

"_Planchette",_ she ordered the maid who entered the room at her call, a very stern tone in her voice, _"monsieur Nouveaux is leaving…"_

First staggered, and then suddenly furious, Albert reached for his hat and cloak. But, turning to Louis, he threw him a last thread…

"_I have no son from this instant…", _he said and left the room most decided to fulfill what he had promised.

A slam followed Albert´s leaving and then, an endless silence on the part of the school mistress. Louis stood on his chair, suddenly paralysed, while Madame Ivy sat back in front of him. He saw her rubbing her temples…

"_Madame, sorry… I am sorry…"_, the young boy stuttered, _"I thought he could understand…"_

Ivy looked at the boy, delicately.

"_No Louis, this is not what you have to do. ", _she said then, trying to calm him down _"there´s nothing to be sorry, I tell you. You did it with the best of intentions"_

"_But I… he…"_

"_Your father meant what he said, Louis, do not fool yourself that way"_, it was hard to tell, but Ivy perfectly knew what followed when a man like that made one decision clear, _"live with that instead; we still have a lot to do to teach your father a pair of good lessons. You will find a family in here, Louis. I will be your family", _she promised_, _her eyes speaking volumes.

Yes, she would do it. No idea how, no clue what to do now. But she would find a way. There had to be a way.

Ivy carefully out her hand on the boy´s shoulder and smiled gently.

"_There´s a lot of people I want you to meet now, Louis. Your schoolmates; they are waiting for us, so change that face"_, she repeated, _"everything will be alright…"_

-END OF CHAPTER EIGHT- (more soon)


	9. Chapter 9 Every rose has its thorn

**CHAPTER NINE:** _**"Every rose has its thorn"**_

*The day of the audition, just after Ivy and Tony´s duet.*

All Le Mirage rose into a thunderous ovation when the last note of 'The Maid in The Water' faded in the auditorium. Tony rose from his seat at the piano, to find the tiny ballerina curtsying to their audience, a genuine and brilliant smile on her face. Yes, music had transformed her, he thought, and the joy of having been him, and no one else, the one who had turned that delightful creature to life again was, for him, simply overwhelming. Gracefully, the conductor took Ivy´s hand, as if to present her to their public, and both bowed respectfully.

"_Ivy, this has been… inspiring…"_, he said, suddenly out of breath, _"You are truly my Maid in the Water"_, he whispered for her ears alone as he delicately kissed her hand. Yes, the one he had been looking for. Perhaps, just perhaps, the conductor thought to himself, she could even be that mysterious red haired lady who had captured his soul once and inspired each and every of the notes in his composition. Or at least a living remembrance of her.

Ivy blushed furiously. That simple, yet meaningful gesture on his part was more than she could have ever dreamt of. After all those years, longing to dance to his music, dreaming with a melody which could wake her spirits up again, Ivy felt full of energy, complete of a new light. He did not know, he could not know how much it meant to her… or did he?

"_Oh… I…"_, she found herself empty of words, _"It was my pleasure…"_

It was Wills who came to her aid, with the most proud smile on his face.

"_My beautiful girl!"_, the Englishman hugged Ivy deeply, before she could utter another single word, _"Did I not tell you, Tony? I KNEW I was not wrong in my intuitions, she still has the glow!"_

"_Oh, Wills. It was not only me"_, she tried to answer modestly, _"it was also Tony´s music; I couldn´t have made it without you…"_

"_It does my heart good to see my music made you step into stage again, Ivy"_, the conductor replied most honestly, _"you know, Wills and I were conversing about the convenience of this music for our duet together, and I must admit he was not wrong to say that, if there was anyone to dance to this, it had to be you…"_

Words failed her at this point. What was he saying? Tony did not even know her; it was true there had been a strong and magical connection between them on stage but… did it mean anything at all, Ivy wondered? This unique individual was getting closer to her with each passing moment, closer than anyone else up to then. She had already pushed Wills´ brother away, sure that, although he was a great man, she did not deserve him. And, from then on, she had always remained alone, locked in her own world, where nobody could reach her heart or hurt her again. But something deep inside was telling her the conductor was different. Why was she not frightened this time?

Among Le Mirage students, Madame´s performance had meant a revolution. They had all raised from their seats when the duet finished, clapping furiously and asking for more. None of them had ever, in all their years of study and practise at that school, seen their schoolmistress so very inspired, so magically drawn to show them what it takes to be a real star, not with her words this time, but with her deeds.

However, there was a cloud covering the brightness of such a unique audition. And it was the news they had already and so suddenly known about Madame Ivy, her unknown story. But it appeared it was only Louis Nouveaux, the writer and Madame´s most faithful and admiring student, who really knew what it all meant. The boy had been observing the performance from his seat, completely absorbed by the magic of the Maestro´s composition and Madame´s dance. Above all, he wanted to see his teacher happy, alive and full of warmth but… yes, there had always been a 'but' in his mind. There was a thread menacing Madame´s happiness, something which could turn everything wrong. She had remained anonymous all these years for a reason, and now that the audition had made her come to light again, who would know what to happen? And that worried Louis deeply.

Of course, Madame Ivy did not know, and all the students had sworn she would never hear a word of it, but they had all agreed that something should be done about it. It was THEIR duty to protect her somehow; and most of all now that Louis had seen with his own eyes what a sole illusion could do with her spirits. She had transformed onstage, she was a different person, brighter and more magical than what he had ever seen in her. He had always considered Madame a wonderful individual, a woman full of magical traits, able to turn everything she touched, said or did, into something especial. At least she had been able to do something especial from him, a mere writer to be, rejected by his family and left alone in the world. She had succeeded to give him hope, a place to live and something to fight for.

She deserved something in return..

This was the way Louis Noveaux had so passionately spoken in Madame's favour during the students' meeting that morning before the audition. And no one, not even Pierre, had had the nerve to answer back. They had all agreed to protect her; if the man haunting her ever appeared at the school, they would all get together and defend her. Louis wondered, while he saw how Sir William Murphy congratulated her after the duet, whether it was convenient to tell him, to get him informed of the situation. After all, Sir William had always showed to be a faithful man around the schoolmistress; perhaps he could do something… anything. But he was not sure.

Anyhow, all the young male students at Le Mirage had come to a final decision. They would guard, in turns, Le Mirage main doors that day; just in case, to make sure nobody uninvited entered and interrupted the audition. And he smiled to himself. This had been a wise decision.

Richard Firmin had arrived to Le Mirage Institute of Performing Arts without an invitation, but he had no problems entering the building when he announced who he was and what he had come for. One week had passed since he and André decided to send Madame Depreaux their proposal and now the man considered it was time enough to present his respects to the school mistress in person, especially when he had known Maestro Batistelli had been invited to a school lesson that day. The school had begun to have a name in Paris, and he had to admit they were in need of training personnel, especially now that their situation at Garnier was so, to say the least, desperate. Little had he come to know about the woman and her project, but things at the Opera House were not the best, and he really hoped his visit would bring at least a bit of light in the chaos they were living.

He read the letter Madame Depreaux had so kindly sent him once more, hoping the paper would be a passport to speak with the lady in person.

To the attention of Monsieur Richard Firmin, Opera Manager

From Madame Ivy Depreaux, Drama Teacher and School Director

Le Mirage Institute of Performing Arts

Dear Sir,

As you may know by now, I have just opened a new year´s course for my Drama and Music School at La Madeleine District. I hope this note will be enough to inform you we are at your disposal for anything you might need from our school.

I would be very grateful if you inform your staff at Garnier my school is in disposition of giving drama lessons and offering two interesting posts as freelance teachers in classic ballet and music, as well as some vacancies for private student lessons.

Should you need any further information, I will be very glad to have an interview with you, either in your office at Garnier or my school.

Thanking you in advance for your time and attention,

IVY DEPREAUX, Le Mirage School Mistress

The lady had been kind enough to offer her services to one of the most important Arts institutions in the City of Lights, but Richard Firmin would have never paid so much interest to that offer if not for the intervention of their new Opera conductor. Maestro Batistelli had been eager to answer all queries about the lady in question the minute he was called to the managers´ office, and he had mentioned he had been kindly invited by the school mistress to an audition, precisely today. Well, Richard had missed his class, but he was glad to see he had arrived in time to see the students and their mistress in action.

He was very surprised to see the audition room was already full of people, parents and tutors alike had come to see the students´ performances. Someone passed him a flier with the numbers prepared, and he was amazed to see there were famous pieces and also personal works from Madame´s pupils awaiting them. The man took a seat at the back of the room when he saw the curtains lifting. He had another look to his flier and smiled. The first number would be a ballet piece; a duet from two advanced ballet students, with music and choreography written by Madame Ivy herself. Its title: the Stone Rose.

Daniel and Ayleen had been rehearsing their performance for almost the whole month, spending most of their practises to improve their technique dancing together. They had been working harder than ever, just to please their instructor and show Madame Ivy they were reaching a professional level. In fact, they were not amateurs anymore...

Lights went on gradually as the music of the adagio grew. The Sculptor appeared on stage, tiptoeing towards the sculptured figure of a white-marbled maid with a red velvet rose in her hands. He slowly danced towards the statue, touching the cold stone, feeling its shapes with every of his movements. He loved her because she was magic, because there was beauty in the whiteness of the stone. The Sculptor wanted his creation to be alive, to dance with him... and he tried to wake her up, dancing for his Stone Rose until he woke the living spirit inside, bringing the stone to life...

The little ballerina blinked her eyes as she started waking up and the music changed into an incredibly soft melody. She first moved her hands, then her arms and her shoulders around the Sculptor, suddenly amazed at her own body already alive. She stared at the Sculptor in surprise, the look of love reflected in her face, shining like a ray of light through the music. She belonged to her master and danced lightly following his steps, flying with absolute devotion... it was his love what had woken her up. She was alive because of love.

Then, their pas a deux began... hands touching, eyes crossing, steps melting beautifully in a perfect love dance. Both dancers were absolutely sank within the music, pirouettes painting the melody they were dancing. But, as the music from the piano began to fade away, the rose slowly withered. One by one, each petal fell following the high pitched notes... and the Spectre lowered her dance, turning again into a motionless cold statue. The magic had disappeared.

A thunderous clapping followed the fall of the curtains in the Audition Room, and this time, it was Ivy herself the first one to stand on her feet and lead the prolonged applause with a smile of pride on her face. Yes, they had finally made it! After endless hours of rehearsal, a lot of hard work and a careful tuition, the couple had finally made it! Oh, she could have cried in joy that instant! She knew, she just knew the two ballet dancers were meant to perform together, their harmonious relationship onstage and also outside. Because Ivy suspected a romance had born between the two young ballet dancers, though she had never questioned them.

The piece had been born from her devotion to music.

And they had turned it into a real story of love.

Well, perhaps love had not been made for her, but she could be glad for Daniel and Ayleen. And, at least, she had had her own moment of passion, Ivy thought, paying a discrete look at the conductor. 'You are truly my Maid in the Water', he had said. For a second, just for a brief instant, she had wanted to believe these words were not a mere compliment…

* A spring twighlight at Le Mirage Gardens. 1880*

Louis crumpled another sheet of paper, desperate, and sighed. He was tired. He had tried for more than two hours now, but the tale still refused to go out. It was not that he was uninspired, not at all. He couldn't simply write a word. What was he doing wrong now? He glanced at the school gardens form the window, once again. They were really beautiful, so calmed and relaxing. The Writer's Corner was the best place in the school to write, there he had created his most beautiful short stories, nowhere else could he write a story. He closed the classroom door and headed for the Writer´s Corner, hoping it could be empty to write in. He would try his best to impress the rest in the audition. But Louis had to give them a good tale to read. And he had nothing worth presenting yet!

Sitting on the Writer´s Corner bench, Ivy stopped reading the letter she had received from Grace and smiled at the remembrance of her old time memories of her friend and David´s first date. She suddenly thought she had played match-maker with the couple without realising and it had worked. She smiled again, remembering how hard Wills had tried to match her with his twin brother… and how she knew from the very beginning it couldn´t work. David had been indeed a very good friend to her, there was still a great amount of complicity between them. But love? No, love had been impossible for her to feel. That´s why she had let him go. Because she didn´t want him to have false expectations… she suddenly wondered if it was going to be that way…forever…? Better if it was so. She had suffered far too much.

"_Oh, sorry, Madame…"_, Louis´ voice took her out of her own painful thoughts. The student blushed and apologised in front of his teacher, _"I shall return another time, when you´ve finished…"_

"_No, it´s all right"_, she replied, _"I was just reading my mail, Louis…"_ Ivy looked at his student´s face. There was something worrying him. She waved the boy to sit down by her side. _"Did you want to use the Writer´s Corner?"_, she said, almost reading his thoughts by the look on his face.

"_Well… yes…I do not know, Madame"_, he replied, blushing again at Ivy

"_You´ve got a block out, don´t you?"_, perfectly recognising the look he was wearing. He was having a writer´s trouble, _"maybe I shall help you…what is it?"_

"_I have something here, in my throat"_, Louis answered, _"I feel there´s a new tale coming… but it doesn´t come out, Madame. I´ve been working for two days… and nothing… I can´t write…"_, his voice was nearly a whisper

"_Louis, how many times have I warned you not to say you can´t do it?"_, she preached him. The boy lowered his eyes, suddenly embarrassed. _"There are times writers are very productive, and times when they must leave writing aside… until the words flow out easily…"_

"_But I want to show something for the audition, Madame"_, he complained, _"and I have nothing…"_

Ivy sighed. Yes, it was difficult when inspiration leaves your side. She was too having problems with her own dancing these days. But she wouldn't tell him. A teacher never shows his weak side to a student. Instead, she could make him consider the topic about which he wanted to write from a different point of view.

"_Alright, let me ask you something, Louis"_, she said, fixing her eyes on the boy´s face, _"What colour do you identify with love?"_

"_Hhmm, I don´t know…"_, he pondered for a second,_ "White…?"_

"_It was just a simple question, Louis, not a test…"_, she replied, almost grinning, _"Why do you think love is white?"_

"_Because I believe love is pure, Madame"_, he answered, _"and bright…and fragile…"_, the student glanced at the roses bushes in front of them. Ivy followed his eyes and caught the image perfectly.

"_I wouldn't use roses"_, she said then, chuckling her head, _"it would sound too naïve to your audience…"_

She lied. She didn´t want him to write about love and roses. Not at all, she thought, glancing for a second at her own hands. The scarves were still there, on her palms, nearly imperceptible.

"_Snow is also white, Louis", _she replied, _"why don´t you use this image instead?"_

"_I think I have a problem with snow, Madame."_

"_A problem?" _she asked, amazed

"_I feel it cold, and love is not."_

"But you can melt the snow, Louis, just as your heart melts when you fall in love with a woman…Just think about it…"

Louis stood silent when she left the Writer´s Corner. His teacher´s words have made him think about something different. He took his pencil and began to write what he had in mind, absent, thinking about Madame Ivy while he looked around…

* The day of the audition.*

Louis remained on stage after the applause of the audience ended. Before starting to speak, he looked at his teacher in the eye and led out a breath to relax.

"_Ladies and gentlemen,"_ he started, _"here is my humble contribution to today´s audition, presenting with a tale I would like to dedicate to our beloved school mistress. Thank you, Madame Ivy", _the writer continued, _"for all the things you put in me…My tale is dedicated to you…"_

There was no ovation this time. Everybody in the room kept silent, wanting to enjoy the actor´s powerful and profound voice. He made a reverence to the audience before starting, and then, the enchantment of his voice began…

"_Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a beautiful garden which became more beautiful that day, after a heavy fall of snow covered the ground, the trees and bushes in a soft white mantle. Two little children were happily playing in that garden, chasing each other, throwing snowballs and playing hide and seek under the fir trees._

_Then, the little girl said: "Let´s make a snow doll, so there will be three of us and we´ll have more fun! " And so they carefully build a doll made of snow, with a pretty oval face, large eyes and a delicate little mouth. It looked just like a real little girl._

_"Let´s give her a kiss, and maybe her lips will turn red like ours", said the little boy. So he kissed the doll… and its lips turned red! Another kiss he gave her, and the snow doll´s cheek turned pink! When a sudden gust of wind blew from the north, the doll came to life. She moved, smiled at the two children and began to play with them… They felt happy, they had at last a friend to play with, to share experiences… a girl to love…_

_But then, as the day went on, the children´s father returned to town. When he saw the girl in white playing with his children, he thought she had to be one of his neighbour´s daugthers. "Come into our house and get warm". But the snow maiden made a frightened sign as though to say "No!" The man insisted, "Oh, you´re so cold! The fire will soon warm you up!", and lead the snow girl into the house. Silently, in she went and stood by the window, looking out at the white garden. Then, she began to weep… as slowly and gently, she began to melt… until nothing was left of her except a trace of white snow on the floor…"_

He had listened to the tale with rapt attention, sitting next to the School Mistress, watching her face change in contempt as the student revealed his story. Tony was captivated by the way the young man had envisioned his teacher, the wonderful way in which he had described to his audience what Madame Ivy was inside. There was something he had sensed in the way she looked and behaved, there was a truth in her eyes showing him she was lonely and she had decided to lock herself within a wall of protection, only God knew why. More than anything that instant, the conductor wanted to see this wall of ice around her melting. Why would this wondrous creature be so afraid of showing herself the way she really was, the way he had seen her as she danced to his music? Silently, he promised himself to find out the truth. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could have the key to get to her…

"_Now it´s my duty and my pleasure to introduce you to my own vision of love",_ he began_, "Misunderstandings, intrigues and lies can sometimes darken love, but this is not the side of the story we wanted to explore. And,",_ he addressed then to the conductor, _"as you mentioned in our class, Maestro, love really does conquer all, gently leading lovers to admit what they feel one for the other…using, this time, the power of words. I´ve had the pleasure of working about the matter with two of my favourite classmates here, with whom I´ve tried to give a new meaning to the words they are going to perform for you all._ _So, please, welcome them to stage with your deepest applause..."_

The curtain rose and the scene presented a wonderful view of a garden, somehow very much alike to one of the many beautiful sites in the school. Louis entered the stage with Evelyn, both transformed into Benedick and Margaret, two of the characters of the extract they were about to perform in quite a different way, for they were mixing some lines just to test one another…

"_Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret",_ Louis pleaded, taking the woman´s had softly,_ "deserve well at my hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice."_

"_Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty?"_, she asked, grinning

" _In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou deservest it."_, Benedick kissed the woman´s hand, and she smiled broadly in return.

"_To have no man come over me! why, shall I always keep below stairs?"_

" _Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth; "_, Louis replied in his best praising tone, "_it catches."_

"_And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit, but hurt not."_ Evelyn was about to cause the first gap in Louis´ next dialogue before she left the stage. It was going to be so much fun!

"_Well,"_, she said, _ "I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs. And therefore will come."_

In the backstage, Paulette was nearly pale, biting her nails furiously as she heard Evelyn´s voice reciting her last lines. She had been studying the new version so hard that she could only think about those words. But there was something else worrying Would she have the courage to do it? She glanced at Dick, who smiled at her friendly. 'OK', she thought to herself, returning the smile to Dick softly, 'just relax. Everything's fine…'

Meanwhile, on stage, Louis had been left alone in front of the audience. So the girls were skipping some parts of their dialogue. Oh well, he was very skilled at that. Madame had asked for personal things, didn´t she? So a very personal Benedick she would get… somewhere inside the backstage, a flute began to sound, telling Louis it was Benedick´s turn to sing…

"_Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, _

_Men were deceivers ever,_

_One foot in sea and one on shore,_

_To one thing constant never;_

_Then sigh no so, but let them go,_

_And be you blithe and bonny,_

_Converting all your sounds of woe _

_Into Hey nonny, nonny._

_Sigh no more ditties, sigh no moe,_

_Of dumps so dull and heavy;_

_The fraud of men was never so,_

_Since summer first was leafy;_

_Then, sigh no so…"_

Ivy was drowning into her own memories while the song was being so beautifully performed by her student. The night she had heard that song for the first time entered again her mind. Sitting alone at the back of the theatre, she had watched Wills play that song during a concert, her soul melted with the notes of that stranger. But she hadn´t cried the way she did in Barcelona. She just relaxed, under the spell of his voice. And then, she had dared visit the actor in his dressing room. Wills had been very kind to her, she thought, smiling secretly to herself, because that night she had gathered all her courage to meet him. Wills didn´t let her go out and then, their friendship had begun.

She glanced around; everything was going just the way she had wanted it to be, just as if she were writing the scene she was living. No matter how many times she thought about that, she always felt the same about it. Half proud, half exhausted to be fighting the same old battle. But she was there, in her parents´ house, away from all the things which had hurt her so much. Surely, they would have been very proud to see the woman she had turned out to be. Caring for others, teaching them, loving them… Ivy closed her eyes, and the world stopped at her feet that instant… nothing could have pleased her more. Nothing in the whole world.

*Autumn 1875. Ivy´s studio in London. 3:45 in the morning*

The Big Ben stroke a quarter to four. Again, the bells had caught Ivy sleepless; a quarter to four in an unusual starry autumn night. There was no wind, no fog, the sky was clear and the moon shining bright over the river Thames. It was a very nice night, one of the most wonderful ones she had experienced since she came to live to London on her own. But Ivy could not sleep, though she was weary. She had tried everything again. A hot bath, a glass of milk, some reading… nothing helped. It was going to be another night without peace, yes, another night alone. Well, not so alone if she tried. She still had her music. And Wills´ Murphy´s homework to think of.

She really liked her teacher; he was patient, understanding, and also exigent, always telling she could give more, always hoping her to improve. Tomorrow it would be one year since she accepted him to be his trainer, and yet, Ivy did not regret it. This had been the best year of her life. And hopefully, soon, very soon, she would be part of the Murphy´s company, she would step on to the stage, as a professional.

Tonight, Ivy had important homework to do for her next music class. 'You´re prepared, sweetie', Wills had told her, with a comforting smile on his face, after he explained what he wanted from her, 'you have what it takes, to write your own music…' She had blushed, thinking at first she wasn´t so…but how could she tell Wills? He would surely not accept a 'no' from her…

A love song. Her teacher had wanted her to compose a love song.

What then? What did she know about love? This question had been wandering through her mind the whole day. No one had loved her as much as to compose any love song. Well, in fact, no one had loved her at all the way Wills wanted her to write. It was impossible. She couldn´t do it.

Loving someone. Loving someone would make the life worth living, yes. It would be the best of times. A young, new love. Couldn´t she reach inside her soul and find this feeling Wills wanted her to write about? A world only for two souls her music would build, a place where it would be hard to believe she was anywhere but in Heaven. It did not matter if love was still unknown for her; it was useless to think of that. For Wills had taught her to pretend, to have wings and fly, thinking she was another one, completely different. What would a woman like her feel when she fell in love?

She could still have it all, in the solitude of her room; for she was free. Free to fly and find her way in the world, free to finish, as Wills always said, what she had started. At least she had run away, she had had the strength to go that far and now, for the first time, Ivy could feel the beats of her own heart. So she could do this. She *will* do it.

Ivy wrote the last note of her song just as the Big Ben spoke again, tolling this time six o´clock in the morning. She was dog-tired and the first rays of the morning sun caught her yawning. She was smiling, though. It was funny how from a simple thing such as doing her music homework a thing like this had begun. For she had been day dreaming as she composed her first score. Still, she believed she could never show the lyrics of her song out to anyone, not even to Wills; he would only get to know the music, not her words. The written score she would keep it for herself, to play and sing in nights like this one, when she could not sleep; when she would need someone at her side. Music would make real this unreal someone for her.

Before getting dressed to go to the Brothers Academy, Ivy carefully put the song into a folder. She did not know then, but one day, she would find the score again. And really play it out loud for a real someone…

* The day of the audition.*

Up to that moment, the audition had been a huge success. After Madame´s dance with the Maestro, the audience had showed very receptive to anything Le Mirage students wanted to present, and the ballet duet had worked wonders on everybody´s mood. Louis stopped singing as softly as the instrument ended its cords. He knew he had then a wonderful monologue to play with his character. He hadn´t been so confident in his whole life, in front of such a warm audience. He wondered then if it would be the same acting in front of a real auditorium. He gave a quick glance to Madame Ivy. Yes, it would be the same, he thought, as long as she were there to support them… But it was time for Benedick to go on… and so he did.

"_I mean in singing; but in loving, Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of panders, and a whole bookful of these quondam carpet-mangers, whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse, why, they were never so truly turned over and over as my poor self in love. Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme; I have tried: I can find out no rhyme to 'lady' but 'baby,' an innocent rhyme; for 'scorn,' 'horn,' a hard rhyme; for, 'school,' 'fool,' a babbling rhyme; very ominous endings: no, I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms."_ 'Quite ironic words for a writer', Dick thought from the backstage, spying Louis. He only hoped Louis would take care of the game not to improvise too much, for Paulette´s sake. He saw Madame Ivy smiling from her seat. She had understood what they meant; changing Shakespeare´s words in their own profit. An accurate technique, especially for Paulette´s training…

Paulette took a deep breath. She was about joining Louis, this time in a perfect 'Beatrice' role; a 'Beatrice' beautifully dressed in red she was, as she had promised. She glanced at her school mates, smiling. This time, she would miss any line. Not at all. She would act her best, even better than her instructor would ever do, she thought confidently. She would never have a better chance to make Louis admit he really loved her, just there, on stage. Benedick was calling her…so she entered the stage at _Le Mirage_…

"_Sweet Beatrice,"_, he said when he saw her entering, "_wouldst thou come when I called thee?"_

Paulette, transformed into a perfect Shakespearian lady, started reciting her lines. She was sure about the model she should choose to build a perfect 'Beatrice'…

"_Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me."_, she pouted charmly. Only Ivy realised her student was clearly imitating her! That was something she didn´t expect from Paulette!

Louis caught instantly Paulette´s tone. She was playing hard at Benedick´s part! He smiled, not so innocently. He really wanted to know how far his counterpart would go…he would take his revenge on Paulette! She would feel the same he felt with that dance at the Opera cafe'…

"_O, stay but till then!"_

"_Then' is spoken; fare you well now: and yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came."_, Paulette was about to go on to go on with the next lines, where Beatrice asked Benedick for an explanation of Claudio´s affair. But it was Louis turn to skip lines. And he was straight .

"_And, I pray you now, tell me: for which of my bad parts did you first fall in love with me?"_

"_For them all together"_, she said, half mocking, _"which maintain so politic a state of evil that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them. But, for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me?"_

"_Suffer love! A good epithet! I do suffer love indeed, for I love you against my will"_, he paused a second, taking Paulette´s hand softly, _"don´t you love me?"_

"_Why, no; no more than reason"_

"_Then your uncle and the prince and Claudio have been deceived; they swore you did! They swore you were almost sick for me…"_

"_Foul words is but foul wind."_,she faced him now, looking into his eyes as she asked the next question of her lines, _"Do you love me?"_

"_No truly, but in friendly recompense!"_

"_Then my cousin Margaret and Ursula have been much deceived too, for they did swear you did! They swore you were night-dead for me…"_

"_A miracle!"_, Louis exclaimed then, "_here´s our hands against our hearts.", _he hugged her, _"Come, I will have you; but, by this light, I take you for pity…"_

"_I would not deny you;"_, she added, returning the gesture, _"but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion; and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption."_

This was the line Louis was waiting for to end the scene. The lovers´fight had to end.

"_Peace! To save your life, sweet Beatrice, I will stop your mouth."_, and with that he kissed her, making the audience erupt in a thunderous applause.

* THE FAMILY MEETING. WINTER EVENING AT LE MIRAGE RESIDENCE, 1894.*

I had been listening to Mum with rapt attention, spellbound by the words she used to describe that first audition at Le Mirage. I did not know where they wished to go telling us such a story, I had expected a telling off… but instead here we were, sitting on the carpet drinking hot chocolate, witnessing the story of our family.

"_I must admit the Shakespeare variation my students performed that morning left me speechless"_, Mum said softly, _"many times your Uncle Wills had tried to tell me the drama group was especially talented, but I could hardly believe they had performed so well…"_

It was Matilda who finally spoke, directing her question to Mamma.

"_You never told us how you met Uncle Wills, Mamma…"_

I remember she smiled at my sister´s question and shared a look with Dad before she answered.

"_Yes, you never told us", _he teased her, with that sparkle in his dark eyes we all knew Mamma adored

"_Your dad is the sweetest cute liar with the faintest memory,", _Mamma laughed, _"Darling, I told you the story the day of the audition …"_

"_You might", _Dad responded smiling widely, _"but I want to hear it again from these gorgeous lips of yours…"_

* SUMMER 1875. KENSINGTON GARDENS, LONDON *

That was going to be another brilliant night at Kensington Gardens, the finishing touch for another successful season. Wills would have loved to stay under Lord Baltimore´s patronage in that theatre, for the selected high-class audience attending his concerts were forever receptive to him, no matter what piece he decided to perform. But he and his brother had already signed another contract for the Summer Festival in York, so he had to say farewell to that stage.

Kensington Gardens had been filled for twenty days with with the art of the Murphy´s Brothers company. Two plays, some Shakespeare´s sonnets, a comedy show and then the final concert, having Wills as the leading star. He spied the audience from behind the curtains before the last call. He recognised most of the faces in the auditorium, noble people related to the Arts´World. They were all there because of him, one of the most popular actors in Great Britain. With just one movement Wills could make them all shiver, he could pick up their tears or make them laugh out loud easily. He had always found the sensation flattering, to be just one step away from an eager audience and be able to speak the Arts´language, turning their dreams into reality. He could never think of anything better than that…

But then, Wills noticed there was an unusual presence in the audience, a red-haired charming lady he had never seen before. Dressed in a silky violet dress, she was sitting alone at the front of the auditorium, apparently just waiting for the performance to start. But there was something very strange with that lady… her eyes… she seemed sad and frightened…

The greeting applause made Wills forget about the red haired lady for a moment. He bowed respectfully and, taking a deep breath before sitting at the piano, he waited until the whole auditorium fell silent. Wills closed his eyes, as he always did, looking for an image to guide his fingers across the keys. Two stars showed then in the darkness of his mind. A pair of sapphire-like blue eyes. So sad, so cold. Words came out as he began his song… a song which told a story…

_"In that big big house there are fifty doors_

_And one of them leads to your heart_

_In the time of spring I passed your gates_

_and tried to make a start_

_all I knew was the scent of seeing you_

_I´ve never been in love before, how about you?_

_In that big old house there were fifty beds_

_And one of them leads to your soul_

_It´s a bed of fear, a bed of threads_

_It grates and sheets so cold_

_All I knew your eyes are velvet blue_

_I´ve never been in love before,_

_How about you?_

_Time went by as I wrote your name in the sky_

_Fly, fly away, bye, bye..."_

Ivy rose to her feet almost immediately, clapping furiously with the rest of the audience. She had heard about the company, she had heard about that man William Murphy and his performing skills, but the fact of hearing him play and sing in person had been overwhelming. Never a song had touched her soul more after that Untitled Nocturne in Barcelona, the one tune which had torn her soul in two. But this time was different, though music had told her again the same old story. Now she was free. Now she could do whatever she wanted, she could meet whoever she wished to, she could even approach the soloist and praise him without fear.

Ivy had forever left Southampton, Foxes Manor and the torture she had lived there. There would be no Baroness of Lettisieur anymore. No more solitude and coldness for Eve.

She would be simply Ivy.

Ivy, who would always speak her mind, Ivy, who would never live a lie again.

Ivy, who would dance, and sing, and play.

"…_Ivy Depreaux"_

Wills smiled softly. It was clear it had been hard for this lady to introduce herself to him, she was undoubtedly embarrassed and looked like a fish out of water, surrounded by people she did not know.

"_For your accent I would guess you are not English, miss Depreaux"_, Wills started casually, stopping a waiter to offer the lady a cup of the finest champagne, _"I dare say you sound French, am I correct?"_

She could not believe it. The straightforwardness of this man, the way he looked, so sincere and honest, so much an artist, was almost overwhelming.

"_Parisian, sir"_, she responded, _"I´ve been living in England for long, but one can simply not forget some things"_

"_Oh no, we all should remember our roots, my dear lady"_, he responded friendly, _"are you here on your own, Ivy Depreaux?"_

"_Oh… oh, yes…"_, Ivy blushed, guessing she had been, perhaps, too bold, _"I… well… I wanted…"_

"_To hear some music?"_

"_Hmmm… not exactly, sir"_, well, she would die if she didn´t do it. She had to ask and she had to do it now, _"I… I heard the school you own in London would accept private students… and I was wondering how…"_

"_You´ve come to ask for a private tuition, my sweet French rosie!"_, Wills laughed and tried to speak warmly. It was evident this charming lady was having a real awful time, _"of course, I am your man! David!"_, Wills called his twin brother, who stopped talking with Lord Baltimore, _"we have an aspirant! Let me, please introduce you to my brother David… she´s Ivy Depreaux, she´s come from Paris with the intention of enrolling our school…"_

"_My pleasure, miss Depreaux"_, David spoke, kissing the tiny marble white hand she offered him, he had never seen a lady so beautiful! _"I hope you had enjoyed my brother´s performance…"_

"_Of course she did, Dave, but now this beautiful lady is dying to show us what she has to offer to the Murphy´s company…"_

The brothers were physically as like as two peas in a pot; but William was definitely the leader in the difficult art of making herself feel comfortable in the presence of men. Ivy could simply not believe her eyes, when she found herself in a private area of the pavilion, as scared as a mouse, but ready for an audition.

"_Is there a piece of your preference to sing for us, mademoiselle Depreaux?"_, it was David who asked the one question. He and Wills had rehearsed and performed the scene many times, with many aspirants. Wills loved playing the active part and leave the decision of accepting or denying the candidate to his judgement.

"_Uhhhm… oui… I´ve brought a score myself… I thought I could sing and play something my own…"_

Wills smiled broadly. This lady was indeed full of surprises!

"_So you are capable of writing music…Much better this way, no doubt; I bet this charming rose still stores some things…"_, he encouraged her with a smile, indicating the grand piano in the middle of the room.

Flushing red, Ivy gathered all her strength and sat down facing the instrument. She had NEVER played in public but… but she wanted so desperately a chance… her soprano voice, finally free and fearless, came out easily form her throat, singing out the one and only song she had written herself…

'_I will not give up my own self_

_just to be with you_

_I will not be glad just to do_

_what I'm told to do_

_I'm not meant to be your property_

_No -I belong to me_

_If I want to reach for the stars_

_you can't hold me back_

_I want to take chances_

_far of from the beaten track_

_Don't force me to be what I can't be_

_I be1ong to me_

_If you try to take me I will not obey_

I'd rather 1eave you alone

_If you try to change me_

_I must break away_

_to be what I am on my own_

_I'm freezing_

_I'm burning_

_I live without compromise_

_I'm growing_

_I'm 1earning_

_I'm ready to pay the price_

_So don 't fence me in_

_I must be free_

_I hate to be burdened_

_with duties that I despise_

_you know I can 't stand_

_to be watched by a thousand eyes_

_for I belong to me_

_I can't give my life for your love_

_For I belong to me_

_I belong to me…'_

-END OF CHAPTER NINE- (more soon)


	10. Chapter 10 Breakdown

**CHAPTER TEN:**_**"Breakdown"**_

* THE FAMILY MEETING. WINTER EVENING AT LE MIRAGE RESIDENCE, 1894.*

"_I'm sorry, Dad, but I can't see the point of this…"_

I could not help it. Just like my mother, I always spoke my mind, and especially in my adolescent years, when impulses and first impressions ruled a fourteen year old girl's mind who did not understand where her parents wanted to go by telling such a story. My father looked at me intently, and it only took him a second to respond to my question.

"_Eloise, there –is- an intention in this"_, he said, _"sometimes things are not what they look like, and people are definitely not what they look like…"_

"_You must know where you come from, cherie", _Mum added, _"there is good and bad in everyone, Eloise…"_

"_And you should be aware of it before you begin walking in life alone…"_

"_But Daddy, I…"_

"_Of course there is a long way before it happens"_, my pere rushed to add, _"and even when the time comes, you will always be our little girl. I must admit I am sometimes too protective with my family…"_

"_And we thought you especially should know why. Eloise, you, your brother and your sisters mean the world for us", _she said softly_, "but it took us a great effort to build the world you are living in…"_

"_Your mother and I discussed this for a very long time", _Dad said, taking me by the hand, _"and I must say I did not agree at first, saying it was not necessary for you to know the 'whole' truth."_

"_But it is, Eloise, as it was for Marshall, Matilda and Valerie not to forget their blood parents. One day, we will not be here with you anymore, my child, and you must promise then you will remember us the way we are now, you all will take care of Le Mirage and its spirit…"_

The spirit of Le Mirage.

Now, as I write these words, I remember the glow in the eyes of my mother when she mentioned it. The school had always been her life, and, when Pappa stepped into her life, she shared her dream with him. But, as we would know that evening, Mum still had to live a nightmare before they started their life together.

One of the tensest moments during that evening was the one which followed my question to Dad. It was then, after their answer, when Mamma opened a box and took out an old photograph. There, we could all see a man, apparently in his thirties, though he looked much older. I was shocked by his eyes; the way he looked at the camera, his gaze apparently lost, obsessed by something… or someone.

Adrian Joseph. Baron de Lettissieur.

Mamma´s former husband.

I had barely heard about him, in whispered conversations my parents had sometimes in their room. But not until that moment I saw his face, and I must admit it impressed me deeply.

"_This man you see here", _Mamma explained, _"almost ruined the spirit of our school…"_

"_The bastard!"_ this was my father's immediate reaction

"_Antonius, stop it!"_ Mamma gave him an annoyed look. She hated bad language in her presence.

"_Ivy…"_

"_You promised me…" _she reminded him,_ "he was just sick…"_

"_But he almost killed you, my dear…"_ was my father's serious reply. I could see the turmoil in his dark eyes. I could guess, but it is only now that I know exactly why. Puzzled, I stopped my mouth from interrupting: had this man tried to kill my mum in the past?

"_He did, my love"_, she calmed him, softly placing a hand on his cheek, _"I can't forget it, and he murdered others chasing me… but for the sake of these others, our children must know the truth…"_

"_Mum, you never told us…" _my stepbrother was as perplexed as the rest.

"_I never did, I know, my boy, but it was not the time."_ Mamma comforted him with her sweet tone, _ "You were just ten at that time, you had enough to cope with living without your own parents, Marshall, and decide whether you wanted us to adopt you…and you, my dearest Eloise, I had barely dreamt about you by then. But yes, there was an unfortunate marriage before your dad came to my life…"_

I did not understand a thing. I had always seen my mother and father as a solid couple, always together and not always as a conductor and a ballerina, not even only as husband as wife. They were Kindred Spirits, the living image of strong and unending love. All their children dreamt to find one day a partner to follow that model of accomplishment and absolute adoration, and we, especially me, had always thought Mum and Dad had always been one.

But it had not been that way.

There had been another one before my Dad. How many other secrets would be revealed that night, I wondered? And most importantly, how would these shadowy years affect all of us?

* The day of the audition.*

"_Maestro Batistelli…!"_, Richard waved him from his seat, while the rest of the audience still clapped furiously at the actors in the Shakespeare variation

"_Monsieur Firmin, bon matin,"_, Tony bowed politely offering the manager a friendly smile. He was too glad the man could finally make it to Le Mirage, _"are you enjoying the audition?"_

"_You can't imagine how much… these youngsters are really something…" _Now he could understand why Batistelli had insisted so much. Again, he thanked André ´s good nose for show business when he showed him the draft for the proposal to Madame Depreaux and Le Mirage institute. His mind was running wild with ideas for an alliance between the Opera and that school. _"When will I get to know the maker of all this?"_

Tony was lost in his own thoughts; moreover, he had got lost watching Ivy greet her students, showering them with hugs and kisses. He seemed unable to take his eyes off her, smiling when he saw her so proud and happy. The conductor blessed the moment he decided to accept this invitation, for he had got to know the woman behind the teacher, and the artist behind the lady.

She simply looked so beautiful when she smiled!

"_Maestro…"_

"_Oh, forgive me, monsieur… you were telling me…"_

"_If there is a chance that you introduce me to Madame Ivy…"_ Artists! thought Richard, they were all the same. Well, at least one could rely that this conductor had enough music in his mind to be caught unaware… perhaps he was creating the next overture for Garnier…

Ivy was hugging Paulette tight when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She felt its contact extremely warming… and her eyes showed with an especial light when she found Tony waiting for her.

"_Ivy, I want you to meet someone"_, he told her, _"will you be so kind to follow me?"_

Then the conductor took Ivy's hand and she could not avoid the blush in her cheek when he smiled at her. He was so supporting and honest… so very much a gentleman… there was indeed much more in him than the image Ivy had formed in her mind about the pianist she once saw playing in Barcelona…

He was excited. Not only because he just KNEW Ivy would love his surprise for her, Tony had been caught by the wonderful spell of that amazing woman. He longed to be the one who brought a smile back to her lips, the one to inspire a sparkle of joy in her beautiful blue eyes. The same one she had gifted him just mere moments ago, when they shared the scene together.

They sorted out the parents and tutors and approached the Opera manager. It was Tony who spoke first, proudly introducing the lady and the gentleman.

"_My pleasure, Madame", _Firmin bowed respectfully at the lady, _"congratulations, it's been an outstanding audition…" _

She was unable to respond. She could only look at Tony, her mind an 'O' of surprise. Who had invited this man…?

"_Oh, I did, Ivy"_, the conductor almost apologised, as if he had indeed read her mind, but there was an unmistakable tone of joy and pride for her in his voice, _"I hope you don't mind…"_

"_Of course I don't, Tony", _was her almost stuttering answer, _"but if I had known…"_

"_Perhaps if you had known,"_, Firmin replied most good-naturedly, _"your students wouldn't have been so astonishing."_, the Opera manager took Ivy's hand and placed a kiss in it, _"Richard Firmin, manager of the Opera Populaire, at the foot of your dress, Madame Ivy…"_

"_I bid you welcome to Le Mirage, Monsieur Firmin. It is my pleasure and my delight to hear you have enjoyed our audition that much."_

"_Oh, I did, I really did, honestly. I must tell you I was impressed with the Shakespeare variation, Madame Ivy",_ the Opera manager rushed to add, _"I was amazed by the way you made your students look at the Bard of Avon. They knew their lines so perfectly that they could even give them a new meaning…"_

"_I told you Madame Ivy was really something, so as it is her school and her students"_, Tony said proudly, _"and her talent as a dancer herself…"_

"_Oh"_, Richard's face immediately showed the greatest interest in the question. It was not easy to see Maestro Batistelli so pleased by the talents and skills of an unknown someone. And the Opera still had a reputation of having the best ballet corps of all France. _"So you are a dancer yourself too, Madame?"_

Ivy felt at a loss of words. She wouldn't have wanted anyone from 'outside' her own little world to see her dancing again, to even know she had at least shared the stage with the Maestro. Once she had a dream… and her dream had turned to dust. She would die if…

Fortunately, someone else jumped into the conversation.

"_A dancer, a composer, an actress and, as you can see, one of the prettiest ladies in Paris, monsieur Firmin, ",_ Wills appeared from nowhere, offering his best smile and a friendly tap on Tony's shoulder. The minute he spotted Ivy had been introduced to one of the Garnier Opera managers he felt he had to run to help… or better to prevent Ivy from spoiling it all.

"_I had come to know the Opera Populaire is interested in signing an alliance with Le Mirage, and, as you could see yourself, you had the greatest idea. We will be glad to discuss the terms of this association, monsieur Firmin, anytime"_, Wills added, before Ivy could even mouth a protest, _"William Murphy, Director of Studies and a patron for Le Mirage…"_

"_My honour to meet you, sir"_, Firmin had heard about the Murphy's company and drama school in England, and he could not help but wondering the relation between the institution and his famous training academy, _"There must be a way by which we start working together; monsieur Batistelli took the chance of inviting me to this audition, and I must say I have seen more than I could imagine…"_

"_Well, done, Maestro, bravo!"_, Wills laughed openly, it wouldn't have been better if planned, _"now our precious Ivy would stop keeping caged here as if she were an outcast…"_

"_Wills, we have already discussed this"_, Ivy tried to back out, _ "My students…"_

"_You know you're strong and talented enough to keep up with Le Mirage and your coming back to stage…"_

"_And perhaps, if this is too much for you, Ivy,", _Tony could not help taking her tiny hands in his and keeping his voice supporting and hopeful, _"a ballet symposium held at Garnier can do…"_, yes, that was a great idea, he thought. At this point, the conductor could have given anything to see her back onstage, dancing to his music. Dancing for him. Nothing was more priceless than that…

Dancing again. On the spotlight.

Taking her broken wings and learning to fly again.

Ivy pondered the thought; it was frightening, but she did it once already. She could not help but regarding Tony with her blue glassy eyes. He seemed he was eager she agreed. Oh, if it were only true…! If she could truly inspire the music in Tony the same way he had inspired her onstage…

Ayleen was cared to death. While inside the stage room was going so smoothly, with patrons and parents greeting the students, and even Madame Ivy speaking to someone from the Garnier Opera House, there was something awful happening in the school hall. What they had all feared, their worst thoughts had come true…

The Baron had appeared. And he demanded to see his wife, immediately.

Daniel had been clear in his instructions. 'Fetch the Maestro, chere…' he had said.

She wasn't sure about the convenience of it. But all the students present in the lecture had agreed to consider Maestro Batistelli a unique individual, and not only because his work as a conductor. They had all watched Madame Ivy waltz with him, clearly transgressing one of her strict personal rules. Getting involved with someone out of her world.

Ayleen understood better than any other the language of dancing, the way in which two souls can be bound by the simple melody of a waltz.

Daniel was right. The Maestro could better stop any possible scandal.

He will not let anyone harm their teacher, in any way.

"_Maestro, please…"_

*Simultaneously. Le Mirage Hall*

"_Watch out your words, boy!"_ Adrian had definitely lost his patience and faced the youngster who stood in front of him, _"I have the right to see my wife anytime I want, you are NO ONE to stop me!"_

"_Wrong again, monsieur le baron"_, Louis answered defiantly, ready to hit him if he needed to, _"We are Madame's family and we'll keep together around her if we need to, whether you like it or not!"_

"_For us, she is the soul of our school, not your wife anymore, monsieur"_, Pierre helped his classmate, responding firmly too, _"and anyone who might want to hurt her will have to face us instead!"_

"_Who? You?! A bunch of teenagers?" _Adrian spat furiously, almost laughing out loud, _"Do YOU know who I am? I can report you to the Gendarmerie Generale if you only dare…"_

"_And do you think that's wise, monsieur?"_ Louis responded, _"So then we will tell your wife, but we'll tell the whole truth. We'll tell her you have been spying us, coming here uninvited; we'll report you to the police, for trespassing a private property"_, he said, _"could you afford another scandal, monsieur?"_

Adrian got pale in the face. How the hell could those students know…?

But yes, he had been standing on the doorway, near the exit, watching her dance to that musician's piano. He noticed, as the melody went on, everything around her changed. Adrian was mad with jealousy. He had to stop that insanity… the voice in his head.

SHE IS STILL YOUR WIFE. STOP IT.

TAKE HER WITH YOU, NOW.

"_She is coming with me"_, he told the idiot, _"this instant!"_

Ivy realised he was speaking his heart. He honestly wanted her to say yes, and so did Wills. Oh, her loving and dear friend, always so supportive and affectionate.

"_Well, why not?", _was her answer, _"I…"_

But her smile froze in her lips when she looked up and saw someone staring at her fixedly, standing at the main door. Something inside made her stomach jump all of a sudden, and she blinked her eyes, confused. No, it could not be. She must have been dreaming again. Having another one of her nightmares. He always appeared the moment she forgot all her worries, the moment she felt safe and sound and in perfect charge of her own emotions. Anytime the slightest light of calm and happiness filled her, then he came. But that was not a dream, not at all. It was he.

Adrian.

Tony had carefully and almost instinctively taken the responsibility of making Ivy return to stage in his hands, and was impulsively gently running his fingers along hers, to support and encourage Ivy in any possible way. He could not help but wonder, however, what her final answer would be, but just as he began to ask Ivy about it, he caught a startled look in her eyes and her face paled instantly. Quickly he moved towards her and placed an arm around her waist, fearing that she might faint if he did not support her.

_"Ivy? What is it?"_ He asked as he slowly led her to the nearest table and sat her down at a seat there. _"Young lady?"_ He addressed Ayleen, _"do you think you could find someone to bring Madame Ivy a cold glass of water?"_ He turned back to her. _"Ivy?"_ He questioned once more, his voice full of concern...

Ayleen would not look for anyone else, she would do so herself. The girl flew to get the water, quickly returning and handing it to Madame Ivy. She slipped it into her teacher's hand, and held it until she knew the older woman had it.

_"Ivy?"_, Wills questioned her gently; something awfully wrong was happening to his friend_ "Please, tell us what is wrong. We can__fix anything together... shall I summon a physician?"_ The worry was written across his face.

Ivy could hardly manage to take a sip from her cold water, and the liquid came down quickly through her dry throat, waking her up. She stared at him from her table, still puzzled and too weak to stand up. She barely recognised the man who stood in front of her. Years had passed, and Adrian looked differently. Stale. Worn out. As her blue glassy eyes fell on him she felt, once more, the sudden impulse of running away, so far, so fast, that he could no longer find her. Ivy could hardly hear Tony's voice calling her from what she thought a long distance, even when she perfectly knew he was right there, just as he had promised. She tried, but words did not come out from her mouth. She did not feel how he had helped her taking a seat, and, for a brief instant, blood stopped running in her veins. She knew then, she wasn't having a nightmare.

"_Adrian…"_, she gasped, stuttering, unable to take her eyes away from the door.

No one was going to stop him from telling Ivy what he had to, not for a second time. He had had enough of it at _Le Mirage_ to be stopped for a second time. However, Adrian carefully stepped back when he watched the conductor obstructing his way to Ivy's table.

Wills did not understand a thing. What the hell was happening? What had struck Ivy so hard to see her pale, frightened and near to the point of fainting? His eyes questioned the young ballerina.

"_It's him…", _Ayleen simply pointed to the stranger in the hall, her voice almost trembling, _"we tried to stop him, Sir William, we tried but…"_

"_That man? Who is he? AYLEEN?",_ he urged her for an explanation

"_The Baron… the Baron of Letissieur…"_

"_What Baron? Ayleen, what are you talking about?"_

"_It's Madame's husband…"_

"_Holy Shit!!!"_

Wills could not believe his ears. Ivy was married… married, to a Baron! That was her secret! Ivy Depreaux was… a Baroness! His eyes quickly search for the conductor… but too late. He had already left to face the stranger.

Tony's dark eyes glanced in the direction of Ivy's stare and whoever this man was it was certain that she was unprepared and possibly unwilling to see him. He approached the man, just a step ahead Ivy.

_"May I help you?"_ He asked cautiously, prepared to find out this visitor's intention and also to protect Ivy.

She could hardly manage to take a sip from her cold water, and the liquid came down quickly through her dry throat, waking her up. She stared at him from her table, still puzzled and too weak to stand up. She barely recognised the man who stood in front of her. Almost stumbling, Ivy sorted people out, walking as if immerse in a nightmare, unaware Wills had flied to follow her…

"_Do you have an invitation, sir?" _Wills sixth sense for adversity and his years training Ivy in the act of masquerading her emotions told him immediately there was something wrong. Awfully, terribly wrong.

No one was going to stop him from telling Ivy what he had to, not for a second time. He had had enough of it in London to be stopped again. If not for one, there were two men standing beside her. The composer and the same man, he remembered, who stopped his first try at the performance in London. The owner of that theatre company.

"_I do have something important to discuss with my wife, monsieur"_, Adrian said coldly in his poor French. He gazed up at her and added, _"or is it that you did not tell the man in your bed now you are still mine, Eve?"_

She perfectly recognised the look Adrian was paying at her. Possession and jealousy reflected in his eyes and some kind of anxiety to meet her again. That happened every time she dared to put herself into the spotlight; it was so in England and he would do it in France again, if she did not stop him. Adrian could not stand the fact that she had gained a life on her own, without him .A life without love, a life alone, sleepless, full of nightmares and silence, but her own life after all. He would not go, Ivy knew for sure. But she would not let him ruin her life again; perhaps some years ago she would have listened to his promises… but not now. She did not belong to anyone different than her own self. That was enough. No one else but her could stop it. Gathering all her efforts, Ivy stood up and tried to move to him, but her body did not answer immediately. It took her some seconds to take control over her shaking legs and for a second, she thought she would faint right there.

Hurriedly, before anyone else could move, Tony reached for Ivy, steadying her with a hand upon her elbow. He saw her face pale and sensed the emotions which must be swirling around inside of her, for he felt as she did; he too was stunned and the world seemed to spin around him.

Wife?

Eve?

Tony glanced at Ivy, trying to read the expressions on her face, but all he saw was the turmoil that this man's presence had brought her.

Turning back to face the gentleman, he was certain that he had seen no deception in the man's eyes; yet, wife? What hadn't Ivy told him? And, more importantly, what was there yet to discover? What else had she kept from him? He tried to reason against the confusion and anger he now felt. It was true that they had known each other for such a short time, however she had deceived him, or at the least, had kept news of a husband from him.

Tony felt as though his insides had been torn out; as though someone had planted a well-placed kick to his mid-section. This shocking revelation left him speechless; helpless to do anything except stare at the couple before him.

Finally, he saw that Ivy was a bit steadier on her feet. She was still in shock...perhaps, his mind struggled for reasons; perhaps, he imagined desperately, this husband had been considered dead only to return. That would explain Ivy's shock and still...widow or not, why hadn't she told him??

Tony turned slightly from Ivy, unable for the moment to look into her eyes. He kept his gaze on the unwelcome visitor, even as he kept his voice coolly polite. When he spoke, the question was addressed to Ivy, yet he continued to hold the other man's gaze.

_"Do you wish to speak to this man, Ivy?"_ The conductor asked with barely constrained anger.

Over.

It was all over. Before it had even started.

Ivy closed her eyes, just an instant, as she felt the same voice in her mind, echoing gloomy dark thoughts, laughing at her own stupidity. For there had been no light at the end of the tunnel. There had never been.

Everything was lost now that Tony thought she had lied to him. She could feel it in the tone of his voice; in the way he had grabbed her not to faint. He was stunned, and angered … yet, who could not be? Antonius Batistelli had been a gentleman to her, a real gentleman… he had assisted her, he had even put himself on her hands, making her old dream of dancing to his piano real… being so nice to her…

…making her believe she was REALLY his Maid in the Water…

All these words danced madly across her mind, as she heard Tony's firm voice asking the question to her. From somewhere, though, she found her own breath to answer, fixing her eyes on Adrian.

"_My name is Ivy Depreaux, and I am NOT your wife"_, she declared, and her voice sounded really strange to her own ears. _"No, Tony, I have nothing to discuss with this… man"_, her face had changed. She was partially contorted with anger against the Baron, and pain, pain to have lost what she had never dared to dream of, _"You won't change my mind, monsieur le Baron. I told you six years ago we were through, and I still think the same"_, she hissed. Yes, she´s rather be alone the rest of her life, _"If you want to discuss, this is not the place, and I AM NOT the person. You should speak to your lawyers about our divorce."_

Adrian was astonished. Divorce? Where had she found that… strength? There was no other way to describe the tone in which she had spoken so openly about her own feelings. Adrian was furious.

"_You're coming with me back to my side, where you should be, and stop this stupid things of pretending to be an actress! You know there will be no divorce for you! NEVER!"_

She glanced at him despitefully, and most of all, deeply offended.

"_Do not assume things so fast"_, she responded, clearly attacking him, _"I've said divorce, but you know you owe me annulment."_

For a moment, as Ivy began to speak, the hope welled up inside of him. It was a mistake.

She was not this man's wife.

Then perhaps he was merely some lunatic who came in off the streets seeking to harass the first person he saw.

But, even as those thoughts entered Tony's mind, he heard Ivy's voice continue and felt as though the sound were coming from some deep dark place; a place where he could no more understand what was truth.

Divorce; it was almost unheard of.

Tony's grip upon her elbow tightened unconsciously; partly from anger and partly in an attempt to keep her near him; for protection from this man who had walked in and so casually shattered his trust.

With a firm resolve, which he had never known he possessed, Tony tried once more to gather up his emotions; now was not the time to allow them to get the better of him; at least not where Ivy was concerned.

_"You heard the lady."_ The conductor addressed the unwelcome visitor in a tone he had never before used. _"She does not wish to speak with you. I'm sure you would have far better luck speaking with your lawyer."_ Releasing his hold upon Ivy, he placed himself in front of her, preventing her 'husband' to come between them. _"Shall I see you to the door?"_ He added firmly; letting the man know that this was not a question, but rather a command. In spite of all that had happened, he would not let anyone harm Ivy either with words or deeds.

Enough. She had had enough. Tell the truth, Ivy. Pour it all.

As she felt Tony's grip upon her elbow tightening, Ivy found it was the moment, no matter where she was, no matter what happened next. She had kept it secret for too long, and now the secret could hurt someone she had begun to care deeply for. Just moments ago, in the stage room, the conductor had given her the strength to trust, something she had forgotten she could have. The rest simply vanished. Ivy stayed silent for seconds, she should speak, and she should do it right now.

Adrian stood still, paler than ever. Everything had gone beyond his control. He hadn't foreseen that!

"_I do not have to stand for this, Eve!"_ was his hateful reply. He knew she hated when he called her Eve. He foolishly thought that would make her back out. _"You are returning to the place you have, as MY wife!"_

"_Oh yes, you have!"_ Ivy spat back, furiously. She would lose her final chance, but she would tell it all aloud, she would tell Tony the whole truth. She only hoped he would hear. _"This… man…he married me with lies, he took me away to England and locked me in a huge mansion, as if I were one of his belongings. This so called baron made my life a living hell for six years, leaving me untouched, forgotten, to hide what he really is"_, Ivy brushed a furiously falling tear from her eyes before going on. A tear crying over Tony. She did not care who else would hear, _"he lied to me from the very beginning, and I had left everything behind because of him alone. I could have been a ballerina, I could have danced my own chords, but I married him, this was my sin if I ever had one"_ For a second, she glanced to Tony again. He should know why, she would never lie to him, not after all the emotions he had awoken in her already, _"there were always young men in this monster's bed, I was just the excuse, and I became a doll, unused, wasted"_ Ivy lost her voice and found she was shivering cold and panting for breath. She turned then to finally face Adrian, _"So yes, monsieur, our marriage is not valid, for it is unsexed."_

"_Liar!"_ Adrian tried in vain to grip her by the hair, _"You're no more than a filthy lying bitch!"_

He had heard enough. In a second, Tony's exquisite manners were forgotten and, upon hearing what the stranger spat, he lost control over his emotions and his fist flied against the Englishman's face. Baron or not, he had NO RIGHT to treat her like that…

"_You get out! NOW!"_ Tony found impossible to contain his emotions anymore and, grabbing the Englishman by the jacket, he harshly kicked him out of the building…

…Ivy stood still, however inexplicably, until the moment when the Baron left the hall. Then everything stored in ten years came upon her, and its weigh was so heavy, so unbearable that Ivy finally fainted, spinning out of control in a carrousel of images, like a puppet suspended from a silk chord….

Music stopped to give way to silence. Silence all around the room. Ivy was alone, staring at the music box playing a melody. Inside, the figure of a porcelain tiny ballerina twirled round and round, following the chords of the carillon. She had imagined she was that miniature-dancing doll; she had closed her eyes and seen herself dancing, pirouetting at the stage of _Le Mirage_. Had it been all real, or just another dream? She did not know. Her eyes strayed all around the room. It smelt like roses, and there were candles all around, golden like lights playing games with the shadows on the walls. There was hot water ready in the bathtub for her. She had ordered it. Hot steaming water would do for a rest. She was about to take a bath.

Ivy sat down to tie her long hair on a knot in front of the mirror with one long silver hairpin. Slowly she brushed her cascading curls, carefully, as she tried to think of nothing. She would have sworn she was not alone in the room, but it was just her imagination, playing games with her mind. She shivered. It was pretty cold in the bathroom, yes. She might have left the balcony door open and now the night breeze was blowing all around, making the candle lights dance, as she had danced in her dreams…

That piano. She could well remember the music she had danced for in her dreams. It could wake her up; make her dream about a long shinny sunny day smiling at her, a young girl with ballet dreams. A sad ballerina locked in a music box, dancing all around. She stood still, with her hair tied, staring at her face in the mirror, blue glassy eyes piercing her. Her own eyes. She was face to face to that ballerina of her dreams, the lady who just danced, and never said a word. Silent. Always silent…

Why so silent? Ivy struggled with herself as she stepped out of her clothes and into the bathroom, still holding the music box in her hand. Get out of yourself, get out and show yourself you can make it, Ivy! She sank into the hot steaming water and stopped feeling cold, as her muscles relaxed and her body weighed no more. Isn't that nice? Isn't that pleasant to feel water is holding you, in a warm wet embrace? Just imagine; and put a face to that hold, the twirling ballerina she was staring at seemed to say behind her porcelain eyes…

"_Let's dance,_

_You can take two little footsteps,_

_I'll go anywhere that you step too,_

_Cause I'm waltzing with you…"_

Ivy fell asleep again, there, in the bath tube, not aware if it was just a dream inside another or it was all really happening. Water gave way to another image, and then, suddenly in her mind there was a room, a huge lit comfortable room…

"Would you do me the honour, Madame?"

"I'm following you..."

She was held in tender arms. She was twirled all around a dancing floor by a most accomplished danceur. That had happened days, hours, … moments ago… But yet, she could see herself from outside, wearing ballet clothes. She had been able to dance anything, to face anything, even a most painful question mouthed with the most harmless intention…

"Are you ever lonely, Ivy?"

Her answer had been most sincere. And so it had been the dance they shared. The waltz that had saved her…

"_My feet aren't falling out of rhythm,_

_I don't know what I'm doing with them_

_But I know I'm waltzing with you…"_

Slowly, as the song she had known as the School Waltz danced into her mind, Ivy could see people dancing around them. She knew every face; she could call every single name. Youngsters dancing the song with her. In pairs, dancing together, smiling at one another. They dance for you. Twirling all around the stage room. In your school. At _Le Mirage. _Dancing for you. You can see their faces; you can hear them counting steps, making up flourishes on their own. The best dancers of all Paris. And you feel proud of them. You can make it believe, give them a reason to dance and perform. Give them a magical moment or two, and they will love you.

"_As magic as it seems to me,_

_We're on the floor with two left feet,_

_Let's keep on dancing until our hearts keep the beat…"_

But tell me; just tell me before I waltz out of this dream, Ivy. How much do you remember of them? How many of these faces have you ever loved at all? Do they know who you came to be, who did I turn you into? A baroness. The Baroness of Letissieur. My wife. You know what this all means. 'A doll, a useless empty woman.', she thought in her dream. A failing ballerina. Silent. Staring at the water surface. Would they still love you then?

"_Here comes the encore,_

_Flow again around the dance floor,_

_One step right, and then left,_

_I'm leading you_

_Now that I'm waltzing with you…"_

She felt a strange growing oppression on her neck, as the images twirled round and round in time to the fading tune of the School Waltz. Hands clutching her. Fingers strangling. Adrian. It was Adrian again. Ivy opened her eyes. She was in the bath tube, terrified. There was blood in the water. And the silver hairpin she had used to tie her hair on a knot… she had stuck it in his throat! No! It is a dream! This is not real!! She had to wake up…!

Wake up, Ivy!

NOW, WAKE UP!!

END OF CHAPTER TEN (more soon)


	11. Chapter 11 Amnesia

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: **_**"Amnesia"**_

* THE FAMILY MEETING. WINTER EVENING AT LE MIRAGE RESIDENCE, 1894.*

Silence floated around all of us as we heard Pappa unfolding the most uncomfortable part of their story. Mamma had fainted the day of the audition.

Mamma had fallen ill.

At that age no child, no youngster is capable of seeing their parents other than invincible, unbreakable, almighty. I was, to say the least, flabbergasted, and also my brother and sisters.

I remembered I fixed my gaze on Pappa for some instants. He was taking a great effort when telling the story, I could see. I had always seen him as a strong willed ever caring man but, even after all the years which had passed, he was deeply affected.

"_There was a great commotion after your mother collapsed"_, he continued, his voice darkened a little and stopped, but Mamma encouraged him to go on, taking his hand in support, _"no one ever knew her secret, not even her closest friends, and the fuss was indescriptible…"_

"_Really?"_

A different voice interrupted Pappa´s story. Leaning against the door he stood, the most hadsome and good natured man I had ever seen, with the poise of a perfect English gentleman. It was his presence in the living room which suddenly rubbed out the halo of darkness the story had brought to us. I ran to my favourite uncle ever and hugged him tight…

"_Uncle Wills!"_

He laughed soundly, returning my hugs and sharing greetings with the rest of the family, My uncle Wills had always had the virtue of showing the exact moment when he was urgently needed, as if a strong and invisible connection linked him with my family. And we all knew he absolutely adored both my parents.

"_So, you were having a winter party without me, Ivy!"_, he teased my mother, _"How inconsiderate…"_

"_We were just…"_, she started

"_I know, about to open Pandora´s box, my dear. Am I still on time for it?"_

Finally, William Murphy took a seat with the rest of us. It was him, the ever present witness and Mamma´s faithful friend, who continued unfolding the events that winter night…

*THE DAY OF THE AUDITION. TWIGHLIGHT. LONDON.*

David sighed as he watched the two twins sleep peacefully in their beds before turning the gas lamp off and close the door of the children ' s room.

"_Good night my sons _", he whispered in the dark of the room, _"may the angels kiss you in your dreams _..."

The man smiled as he wrapped his son and kissed him goodnight. It was a bless of God they do not have to perform on Monday, for David did not want to leave his children alone for too long. David yawned as he walked along the corridor to the dinning room. Oh God, he was exhausted and he had just spent one day out of work with the children. Grace had insisted on taking the twins to the ballet rehearsals for the next production of the company every afternoon; that way she could pay an eye on them and, besides, she too wanted her children to develop the acting talent they had inherited from both their parents and they had shown at a very early age. How could Grace manage all that alone? Ballet rehearsals with the company in the morning, accountancy studies, dealing with these two twins and being his stage partner every night. ...Yes, she was a gift from Heaven, and his sons the brightest things in his life.

When she announced her pregnancy, David had often dreamt about their faces when they were born. Brian had his wife's reddish hair, he thought, her spirit and her talent for dance too. But Mickey...oh well, Mickey was completely different in the inside, he was like Wills, definitely! David smiled at the thought, remembering how many times had his brother made jokes about the children and their naughty ideas! Nearly five years old, their twins so active, curious, sometimes tiring but a1ways so bright with all their why and how questions... funny, very funny indeed, just like his dear brother. Their mammy had come late that evening, but the children had decided they would have her sooner if they investigated into their parent´s wardrobe; he had caught them having the time of their lives inside their bedroom, after throwing away his mother' s clothes, they had painted drawings on the walls and were trying all of David' s hats in front of the mirror when he found them. This was just one of the thousand of pranks little Michael and jhis brother Brian had performed in their short life, but still, David was proud of his two chi1dren and sometimes it was really hard to be stern with them. .

"_Shall we serve dinner, my lady? _", the butler asked

"_No, just wait for Lord David, Steven _", Grace responded as she waved him serve her a glass of water, _"he 's kissing the children goodnight... _"

Grace rested her chin on her hand, thoughtful, while she waited for her husband to join her for dinner. Just a moment ago, she had finally opened the mail they had received. Some bills, invitations to dinner, a letter from Ivy and a telegraph she had not opened yet. She concentrated on her friend 's careful handwriting. Paris was far from Berlin, and Ivy' s letter was dated ten days ago.

_Good day to you, my dearest Grace,_

_I know, I know, there's been quite a lot of time since my last letter, you don't have to tell aloud what you're already thinking, my friend. How is everything going on, dearest one? It has been such a wonderful thing to read you had a great success with your new 'Coppelia' production in Germany. I would have loved to attend your first night but recent events have kept me busy with the school._

_ Paris keep missing you three, Gracy, and Le Mirage runs as demanding as usual but as gratifying as ever. Every day, I do have three or four new applicants to enroll; not all of them talented, but this year's promotion of students is indeed promising, so you will surely have some traveling there, ready to enroll your company._

_ Oh Grace, you can't imagine how I would like you, Dave and Wills to be here these days. I've had the craziest idea of all, my friend. When I booked my box for this year´s opera season at Garnier, I was informed that the orchestra had a new conductor, Maestro Antonius Batistelli. Yes, you've heard me speaking of his music, Grace, dear, he´s the musician I told you about the last season I spent with you, the one offering that delightful concert in Barcelona. I was bold enough to invite him to a hosting lesson for my students, and, though I thought he would not accept, he did, so now, wish me luck, for maybe then, after the audition, Le Mirage would finally have the relationship with the Garnier Opera House I have always dreamt of for the school._

_ This is by far the shortest letter of all time, but I hope you can forgive me, I hardly have time to get away from all the work I now have here, and I know Wills would frown when he read these lines, but I am sure this will be worth my efforts for the school's sake. Please, send the most pleasant thoughts to Wills and Dave and hug little Mickey and Brian for me, will you?_

_Your greatest friend, who loves you dearly,_

_Ivy_

The woman smiled to herself as she folded Ivy's letter again. It had been eight months since they met last, and Grace missed her too. She was glad, so very glad that life was smiling at her dearest friend at last. Grace Murphy yet could not understand why Ivy had left the stage; especially then, when she was a1ready a leading star in their company. 'I have to, Gracy', Ivy had said, 'I long for Paris, my home, the place I should have never left'. Wills had protested and asked Ivy a thousand times to stay with them in England. It wasn't fair, he argued, for there, on stage, Ivy was happy. 'What shall I do without my stage sister?', Grace remembered her brother in law say. She had to admit Wills had made an excellent work training Ivy, giving her a reason to stand and face life for the first time in her whole life. But Ivy never backed out when she made a decision, Grace knew. And she told the brothers goodbye, returning to Paris and making then an amazing work with her parents' chateaux in La Madeleine. David had immediately supported her, though he was still sad of missing the accomplished artist she had turned out to be and a faithful and caring friend. But she had her reasons, her husband had said, powerful ones. Nearly four years had passed since then and twice they had visited Ivy at Le Mirage.

Every now and then, Grace still thought about Ivy´s relationship with the Brothers as a menace, especially where David was concerned. Wills sometimes treated her as a child, and there was an obvious connection between them, one stronger than that of student and teacher, for Ivy showed herself fearless of her brother in law and trusted him almost completely. Grace knew about Wills' private life being somehow uncommon for a man of his position and age, and sometimes she did think of the fact that it was precisely why Ivy was so comfortable with him: because Wills cou1d never 'hurt' her as a male. Ivy could be very cold and distant whenever she was courted and no man around her in the time she had spent working for the Murphy' s company had ever succeed in having the slightest sign of interest on her part. But David? What would have happened if she had not rejected him? Would Ivy have been as happy becoming lady Murphy as Grace was now? She knew her friend hurt terribly at the fact of not having children, they had discussed many times the question, the fact that Ivy thought of herself as a woman unable to love or light a man's passions... now she was in Paris, her letter telling Grace she was so excited to make her dreams come true for the school. Ivy seemed apparently happy with the life she was living but...was it really true? Wasn 't Ivy just pretending, playing the actress role she had learnt so well from Wills?

This was a silly thought, Grace had to admit if she thought twice, for Ivy had never thought of David as a possible partner though he had tried to develop with Ivy a relationship more intense than just being good friends. Moreover, it had been her friend who finally got them together, and the song she had played at their wedding was indeed the most wonderful altruistic gift she could have ever received from her. Years had passed, and then the twins came. They absolutely adored Auntie Ivy and she could not help but smile when she remembered her two children running around in Ivy's lovely gardens at Le Mirage, both giggling as they tried to find her aunt hidden behind the rose bushes, the three of them eating chocolate in the Writer's Corner and Ivy making up stories for them to enjoy. Brian had learnt how to read and write at a very early age and it had been Ivy who taught him how to and Mickey...well this child had stated very clearly his love and devotion for her friend. These stupid fears had been forgotten long ago and now Grace's heart rejoiced at the thought of having the truest faithful friend in Ivy.

Sighing again, Grace put aside Ivy's letter and concentrated on the rest of their daily mail. She then found a small envelope coming from the Paris post office, labeled as urgent and posted three days ago. She could not help but gasp at what she read from Wills. She read it once, and twice, and then another third time. But the text was unavoidably clear. And worrying. David entered the dinning room moments later, catching her up absent, thinking about a way of telling her husband what had happened in Paris.

_"Tired, my sweet? _", he whispered, _"you haven 't touched your food... _"

Without a word, Grace handled him the piece of paper and he read the most unexpected words from Wills,

PROBLEMS IN LE MIRAGE. Stop. IVY FALLEN ILL. Stop. RUSH TO PARIS? CAN'T HANDLE THIS ALONE. Stop. BRING CHILDREN WITH YOU. William.

_"What shall we do with this, Dave? _", she muttered, almost unknowingly, _"I had just received a letter from Ivy and she sounded happy... _"and she handled him the paper, _"look, read this; Ivy had plans, lots of plans to put her business into the spotlight, she even mentioned she was about to host a musician she admired in Le Mirage _" Grace stopped talking for a second, and then added, her voice so much puzzled, _"and Wills was with her!"_

David went quickly through it and he could not help but imagining Ivy, sitting in the Writer's Corner as she wrote the words. A wave of unbearable rage then set into him. For David knew, he knew what had probably happened in his friend's life. The man remembered. Five years ago, during Ivy's last performance with them in London she had received a visit in her dressing room. That dreadful man, that Baron… She had made him promise not to tell, he had sworn in his honour Wills would never know.

Grace could not take her eyes off her husband. There was something wrong, she was sure, something going awfully wrong.

"_Darling, please tell me, what is happening?_", she questioned him, softly grabbing his hand in hers _"did you... did you know Ivy was ill?"_

This was a question Grace had thought about many times, but one she had never dared to speak aloud. She stared at her husband, trying to find in his dark gaze what the man was thinking of.

"_Grace, dear, there are some things you and Wills don´t know about Ivy"_, he began softly, as his wife stared at him in astonishment, _"things about her past life in England, when she lived in Southampton…"_

The words David used to tell Ivy´s story hurt him more than anything in the world, for he remembered that night, the night of Ivy´s last performance in London…

The dressing room was still half dark, and David did not dare move or speak. He simply held his friend in his arms, as she sobbed uncontrollably. Outside, people still ran up and down the corridors, for the performance had not finished yet. But it had for Ivy. That would be the last time he saw her on stage.

Defeated. Torn. And unable to stop crying. Ivy felt dirty and worthless, while she cried all her pain out with no words needed. As David handled her his handkerchief, and she used it to wipe away all her tears and blow her nose, she heard him gently asking what she knew she had to answer, but she was most afraid to do.

"_Ivy dear, what was that?"_ David looked at her right in the eyes, the concern shown in his voice, _"who was that man and what was he doing in your dressing room?"_

Ivy tried to find the strength not to shiver when she finally faced David, an unbearable wave of embarrassment overflowing her.

"_My husband…"_, Ivy whispered looked down away from his gaze, _"he was my husband, Dave…"_

For a second, David stood looking at her, wordless. Ivy! Married! He thought back, just a second, and remembered how this lovely woman had stepped into their world. Wills had found this very talented lady one fine day, at Kensington Gardens, after a Shakespeare recital, apparently appearing from nowhere. He had to admit his brother had had the right intuition, when he encouraged her to join the Murphy´s school of Performing Arts and he became her personal music and drama trainer. And she had gained both their friendship and their admiration, he had seen her working hard to achieve her goal, to become the so accomplished actress she was now. But, as she told him about that man, David could not help but wonder; how many things did he and Wills REALLY know about their friend?

"_You… your husband?"_, he managed to answer, confused

Ivy simply nodded before answering.

"_Yes, Dave, my husband. I am a baroness, the Baroness of Letissieur"_, Ivy responded, and she found the words harsher and more painful than ever, _"we´ve been married for six years now"_, she went on, _"an awful marriage, Dave"_, she added.

"_But how… why… why did you leave him?"_

"_Mutual incompatibility, irreconcilable differences. Call it whatever you want to, David, but there is one fact: he made my life a living hell, though when I married Adrian, I was absolutely in love with him, he has never loved me at all."_.

There was a great shadow of sadness darkening now Ivy´s blue glassy eyes. And then silence. Dry and cold silence all around the dressing room.

"_Had he…did he ever hit you, or abuse you, Ivy?"_, David dared to ask.

"_Yes, many times"_, she admitted, _"Though he always made sure he did not leave a sign of his brutalities, for he needed a wife to show in society. Everyone around Adrian thinks I am mentally sick, David, and sometimes, too, I think I am. I cannot sleep, David, I never sleep more than two hours each three days. I married a monster, David, and I cannot get rid of him, I cannot divorce for he would turn then into a beast… I am so utterly frightened… you can´t imagine all the things I had to go through…"_

Both stayed silent, for some instants, after the dreadful revelation Ivy had just discovered before David´s eyes. Finally, the young man led her to the sofa, and Ivy took both his hands, yearning for some sort of support.

"_Ivy, you should have told us, me and Wills before"_, he said, _"for he knows nothing about what you have just told me, doesn´t he?"_

" _No, and Wills must NEVER know, David, please…"_

He stared at her, eyes wide open.

"_Why Ivy? Why do you want to hide this any longer?"_

"_He´s one of Wills' kind. He used me to hide his tastes and depravations, having a silent and beautiful wife as one can have a sculpture to admire, but never to touch" _Ivy finally said out loud, "_I´m sorry, David"_, she finally muttered, _"I should have told you before…"_

Ivy had to admit the unacceptable. She had used the brothers to hurt that bastard, but, again, he had won, she had been trapped in her own web. And now Adrian´s hate would turn against the brothers, he would do something, that was for sure. She had betrayed them. She had lied to them both, and that was not was she had intended to do. And that must be stopped. It was time to leave the brothers and fly back to Paris before… before Adrian tried to hurt the ones she cherished most.

As much as Grace was puzzled, and deeply touched to hear her friend´s story from her husband´s lips, she now understood many things, many more than what David could imagine. She placed a comforting hand on her beloved´s, waiting somehow to bring him her support.

"_I knew I did wrong, Grace"_, David whispered, _"but she begged me not to tell Wills… nor anyone else, about the things she had suffered in her marriage. I thought she would be safe, in Paris, I thought she would be strong enough to overcome herself…"_,

"_But, obviously, you thought it wrong, darling"_, the lovely lady looked into her husband´s eyes, and stayed silent for a second, _"probably Ivy did not want Wills to know because she did not want to hurt him, dear. You know her, and how she cherishes your brother…" _

" _Wills is going to kill me for this…"_ , he ran a weary hand through his hair, _"do you remember the tax we had to pay to the Censorship office?"_ David asked then, _"the Baron reported the company for that performance, arguing we had attacked him personally…"_

Grace could not believe her ears.

"_Did he?! No Dave, this man´s a coward!"_

"_It was really an amount of money, Grace, and Ivy suffered terribly. I could not tell her to stay when she told me she was going back to Paris, and I could not tell Wills why she was leaving us either…" _

Grace was serious, but she finally smiled,

"_No Dave, I know Wills far enough by now, and I know how much he loves our friend. But *you* are his brother, and blood is thicker than any other circumstance. You did it right, darling, though you might think otherwise."_ She kissed his lips, softly, and marvelled at the way his eyes shone when she did it, _"Remember Ivy gave us the greatest gift before she went away, David; we are together because of her, and this can only speak wonders about her gentle soul."_

David Murphy silently agreed and nodded, remembering Ivy´s words when she said goodbye after their wedding.

"_The Murphys will travel to Paris, dear"_, Grace went on,_ "and stay by her as she did with us…you´ll see, wait until we tell the kids we´re visiting their auntie"_, she smiled, _"then, tell Wills what you have just told me, darling, and he will understand what you did and, most of all, why…"_

*SIMULTANEOUSLY. IN PARIS*

The hours following Ivy´s fainting had been terrible for everybody at Le Mirage. Wills had done his best efforts to control the situation, manage parents and students out of the stage rom and into the gardens, while Tony and Ayleen took care of a very pale and unconscious Ivy. He was extremely worried about her; and then, there was the question of her secret.

Her secret.

Ivy was married. To a nobleman.

To one his kind.

He dared not think of the consequences. Not yet.

It was then, when he had nearly got to the school entrance, when he saw it. Charity, the school maid, waving his attention from the distance.

"_What is it, Charity?"_, he asked, suddenly uncomfortable when he saw her running towards him, _"Is Ivy alright?Had the physician arrived already?"_

"_I… you…"_, the maid stuttered

"_Come on, speak!"_, he urged her, _"or I´ll have a heart attack right here! What is it with Madame?"_

"_Well, monsieur, I really…", the woman stuttered, "I don´t know where to start… there are two people in the school entrance. They had asked to see Madame Ivy…"_

"_Now, Charity"_, he preached her, _"can´t you tell them yourself she IS busy?"_Wills could not believe this woman weren´t able to make up a simple excuse!

"_Sir William… I am sorry… "_, the woman apologised, _"they have asked to see the Baroness of Letissieur…"_

"_Good Jesus!!! And what have you said??"_

"_I have come straightforward to inform you, monsieur…"_

"_Well done! Now hurry up! I will handle this myself!"_

With each word that passed Ivy's lips, Tony's anger had grown; not for the woman whose elbow he had tightly gripped, but for the stranger who had dared treat a woman as this man had.

Tony now regretted having left Ivy and made his way outside as well making certain the Baron had indeed left the school, when he felt the woman next to him unexpectedly go limp.

"_Ivy! Ivy… what is it?"_

He quickly moved his arm from her elbow and wrapped it around her waist catching her as she slumped into his arms. His other arm went to support her behind her knees and he held her now as he would a child.

_" Ivy…! Someone, please bring me some cool water!"_ he addressed the others around; there was urgency as well as tenderness in his voice when he glanced back down at the woman in his arms.

Paulette quickly scurried out of the stage room and ran into the kitchen, returning with a glass, and a pitcher of water, with ice floating in it. The departure of the man claiming to be Madame Ivy's husband had left Louis with no one to vent his ire on. Pierre carefully placed an arm on him, and led the rest save Ayleen, Monsieur Firmin and Sir William out to the students´common room.

Ayleen poured water into the glass, and handed it to the conductor.

_"Here, Monsieur, please, say she is alright."_ Ayleen´s voice was pleading for him to hurry and revive her mentor_. "Should I fetch the__physician?"_

Tony´s face spoke volumes. He was absolutely heartbroken. He could do nothing else than holding that extraordinary lady in his arms… and feel he could give a world to bring her peace…

"_Maestro, we can easily find Monsieur Duncan Morgan, the Opera physician, and bring him here in less than thirty minutes"_, Richard Firmin spoke, his face serious and his voice low._"he´s an excellent professional, and a good friend. He can check on Madame and tell us what fell on her…"_ There was something Richard did not dare add now. Duncan Morgan was a physician and a lawyer and so he also dealt with the legal affairs in the Opera; he was well aquaintanted with the Court in Paris, and some high stages in church. From what Richard had heard, the lady did indeed have ample grounds for an annulment. If she wanted one, it would not be difficult to achieve. _"Maestro?"_

Having no immediate reply from the Opera conductor, the man addressed the young ballerina who seemed to be Madame´s right hand in the school, who nodded.

"_We have to take Madame Ivy upstairs, Ayleen,",_ he suggested, _"and see her to bed. Is there any empty room in the upper floor?"_

"_I know Madame had the keys of her parent´s private bedroom, somewhere in her office, Sir William"_Ayleen was at the point of tears,_ "the room had always been locked since they passed away, I believe…"_

"_But Ivy had to sleep somewhere in the school when the hour grew past late…"_, Tony replied in shock

"I´m afraid she spent too much time awake these days, Maestro…" "Too… too much?", now he was more than puzzled, "how much time are we talking about, Ayleen?"

"_Five days, perhaps a week…I really don´t know for sure…"_

These simple words left Antonius Batistelli absolutely flustered.

…Almost one week without sleeping… Dear Lord!

He was still holding Ivy in his arms, as softly as he would hold a baby or a precious creature. He placed his right hand on Ivy´s forehead; it was indescribably cold and wet.

"_Order the maids to prepare Madame´s room as quick as possible, Ayleen", _he told her, his voice full of true concern, _"and, monsieur Firmin, please, see to it that the Opera physician is brought here as soon as he can…"_

The next hour at Le Mirage was frantic. No one knew where Wills had gone, so it was Tony himself the one who saw all parents and students off, taking Ivy´s place, and assuring everyone Madame would be alright while, upstairs in the upper floor, Ayleen made the neccesary arrangements to turn a cold and empty huge room into a proper chamber for the School Director.

*MEANWHILE. LE MIRAGE HALL*

Wills entered the school hall half running, thankful he had arrived before Ivy was lead there. He closed the main door breathless, to find two people waiting for him there. One of them was a man, a kind face and saphire blue eyes. The other was a woman, face away from him, who was now staring absently at the full size portrait of Ivy on one of the walls…

As like as tow peas in a pot. Bastard! He had destroyed her life, she would have died if not for Christian... and now there was another woman in danger, a woman who had married the Baron without knowing he was a murderer. Satine could hardly contain her anger, her frustration and her tears running down a burnt cheek, behind the pearl full size mask she wore. Now she understood.

She had to stop it.

Wills spotted briefly the door of the Library. There was still a note saying 'Do not disturb', hanging on its handle…

"_Good morning, sir"_, Wills' perfect French accent preceeded an usual dry tone in his greeting, for Wills was most decided not to let anyone interrupt the hearing, _"I am Sir William Arthur Murphy, director of Studies at Le Mirage. What can I do for you?"_

"_Bonjour, Sir William, and thank you for receiving us without an appointment"_, it was Christian who spoke first, _"My name is Christian Duckworth and my wife Satine and I would like to know if it is possible to have an interview with Eve de Letissieur…"_

"_It is not, I´m afraid"_, Wills answered, much annoyed to hear that man addressing to Ivy by her still formal name,_ "Mdlle Depreaux is busy at the moment"_, he remarked wryly, _"and besides, I do believe she would hardly want to receive anyone who calls her by that name…"_

Upon hearing Wills´altered tone, Satine interceded, turning around. So that woman was not the Baron´s wife anymore! 'God, thank you, I still have time, not everything is lost!', she thought instantly. Wills frowned at the sight of that strange lady and her most strange attire, which covered her face with a close-woven veil.

"_She will see me, Mr Murphy,"_, Satine replied determinedly, _"she must know what I have to tell her about the man she married, for her own sake…"_

Calmly, Satine took out her hat, leaving Wills speechless…

No hair under the wig she took out. No left side face behind the mask. That was what William Murphy had before his eyes. A young woman, much similar to his lifetime friend, his stage sister Ivy Depreaux… deformed. Cruelly mutilated.

"_God bless my soul…!!"_, Wills gasped,_ "WHO DID THAT TO YOU???"_

"_Is there any private place where we can talk, Sir William?"_, Satine added, in the same calmed tone she had used before

"_Y…e…s…", _that was what he could only managed to say aloud, _"please, DO come to my office…no one will disturb us there…"_

With a gentle and understanding gesture, Wills waved the lady to cover her face again with her veil, but she refused, and Christian understood why. He could only love her more. To show her misshapen face to a stranger… she had never done it before. That could only speak of the gentle heart his beloved wife had always had.

Wills locked the door of the office and invited the couple to seat in the comfortable sofa Ivy had in her office, still shocked by what he had seen, and making an incredible effort not to cry. Once they were sitting on the sofa, Satine began with her story…

Satine´s eyes fixed on the man she had sitting before him. At first, she felt her throat dry, as if words were crowding inside, all begging to go out and no one succeeding. Wills still stared at her, expectant. She could see he did not did not care a single bit about her ugly face. He only want to know what whas happening, why she was here. For a moment, she thought it was unfair, she shouldn´t have decided to come to that school. For years she had planned that day, meticulously… when she felt ready, when she had finally accustomed to her face and felt strong enough to do it, she would visit the Baroness. She would tell her, and then she would get her revenge. For no one would take her lost beauty back.

But it was not the Baroness of Letissieur the person who was looking at the face she had now. It was a man, sincerely touched and upset… who waited for an explanation. And Satine couldn´t she did not know how to start; only when she felt her husband´s hand grabbing hers could she begin to speak. Slowly, bit by bit she talked, coming back to her past, when she was seventeen, when she was still beautiful…

"_I was seventeen in this portrait, sir"_, Satine began, after handling a still astonished Wills a picture of a young red haired lady, porcelain skin and blue glassy eyes, _"I was a trapeze artist in a circus… The Sparkling Diamond, they called me. One day, touring around Scotland, I was introduced after a performance to a most strange man, one I had never seen before. He was said to be extremely rich, one of the wealthiest noblemen of the region, so he easily got to be introduced to me by bribing my agent. Adrian de Letissieur was his name…"_

Wills did not dare to say a word. This was indeed more mysterious than a simple vicious man who had forced Ivy to be the way she was. Long ago, Wills had heard about that woman, a flying acrobat… who had retired, at an early age and under mysterious circumstances. Retired? God, what was the meaning of that?

"_The Baron´s visits to my dressing room where constant and insistent all along the seanson we spent in the county, offering me the most exotic flowers, the newest perfumes, the most luxurious items my eyes had ever seen. But I did not like the sickly look in his eyes, the insistence of his overwhelming words… he wanted to marry me, he said he had fallen in love, and he wanted me as his wife. But I did not trust him, I would never leave my world to share a life with that man, not a single instant. And then, one day before the circus left, I ordered my servants to stop his courtings, to let him know I would never accept him…"_

Wills could see a lone shy tear forming in Satine´s eyes as she spoke.

"_I used to walk alone under the moonlight, after every performance, to relax."_, Satine continued, _"And that last night in Southamptom, the Baron bumped into me, enraged and furious, demanding an explanation… 'you will not be mine, you won´t be anyone else´s', he said. He…"_

Satine stopped, unable to go on and, for the first time in all those years, she burst into tears. Christian was still silent when he hugged her. Wills´face had never been so pale, but yet the puzzled man managed to serve a glass of water to that woman, one she drank in short sips.

"_It was acid what the used to burn her face and hands, Mr Murphy"_, Christian managed to utter the words in the form of a whisper, _"I found her the morning after, lying on a river bend to where she had creeped for help…"_

"_This man tried to kill me, sir! He turned me into the horrid vision I am now… if not for Christian, I would have died that day "_, Satine spat, _"but I did not, I DID NOT! He has to pay for what he did to me!"_

*LE MIRAGE IVY´S PRIVATE WING. *

She was sleeping. She was dreaming. And, in her dream, there were moonlight and shadows. Grey.

Music.

Music had to hurt to turn things right. A piano in the shadows. An untitled melody, so long ago faded with the waves and the moonlight. The sea. The beach and a full moon. Eight nights waiting.

¿Se siente mal, baronesa?

Without a sound he appeared. He had moved her. Once, but she now forgot his name.

_... the finest goal of any music is to touch someone..._

You did it once.

_... there is nothing you cannot do..._

Yes, There is. I cannot love. Music was my first love.

And it would be my last. For I will never love again. Will you ever make the dream come true for me?

_...will you never fail to ashtonish me...?_

I failed. Yes, I was inspired. Now I´m tired.

And sad.

I´m not what your music shows.

Memories rubbed out. Nothing left. Nothing broken. Only the scent of while roses in a garden. And a pair of admiring round dark eyes to which she had tended to hide things…

Her honest friend. The one who waits when curtains are down. Watching her. Calling her... but she doesn´t hear...

_... I´m your stage brother…_

Make her smile. It comes so easy. But what when there´s no one else around? She cries, for I am behind her smile. Under her make up, behind the curtains. And you can´t save her now. No one can.

_... it is fear which makes us strong..._

Fear and lies. And things we left behind, unspoken..

_... finish what you started...you´ve got this power in your veins..._

Do I? Why was I so scared to end to finish what I started?

I did not start it!

The show is over. You say the word. And I say goodbye...

"_**Do not open your eyes, lvy. Do not wake up. Stay asleep, for here, in your dreams, you won 't be hurt anymore. **_**..",** she could still hear the voice in her mind, thought the music had stopped, the soft lady's voice spoke clear, insistent. Commanding. _**"Keep on sleeping",**_she said, _**"it's cold and dark outside"**_Slowly the voice of her dreams became more musical, more and more addictive, until its sounds wrapped her consciousness. _**"There's no use in remembering. Do forget, lvy... "**_

-END OF CHAPTER ELEVEN- (more soon)


	12. Chapter 12 to dream a dream

**CHAPTER TWELVE: **_**"To dream a dream"**_

*SOMEWHERE IN PARIS. A PLEASURE HOUSE CALLED 'CAPRICE'. ALMOST MIDNIGHT.*

Slowly, he made his way inside the beautiful building, and was told to wait beside an indoor fountain, until he was told to come to him. He lit up a cigarette, and drank again from the glass of whisky he had asked. He had never been so anxious…

"Monsieur, I am sorry, but smoking is not allowed in here…"_, _the butler requested. But he made no sign to have heard him. Just the voice in his head.

MAKE HER COME TO YOU AND TAKE HER. SHE WILL COME.

SHE WILL COME.

Pacing nervously up and down the hall, he waited. No, she had said. Once, twice, three times. And he had always let her go. But not now. Not tonight.

SHE WILL BE YOURS. SHE WILL PLAY NO MORE.

That the voice said, it echoed in his mind, covering the pain of his wounds.

SHE WILL NOT RECOGNISE YOU. YOU WILL FOOL HER UP.

YOU WILL FOOL THEM ALL!

Ten minutes passed. He lit one cigarette with another, mindless of the pain in his lungs. It was all red. It all smelt of blood. His hands on his pockets, playing with the matches he had taken with him. And with a pair of shinning silver scissors.

Majestically, Livia climbed down the stairs, all dressed in red and smelling roses. Another client, she repeated to herself, as she spotted the man at the end of the stairway, a parch in his eye, and his face recently cut. She smiled brightly, seductively, as she pierced him with her blue glassy eyes. Men always looked at her the same. Their eyes, full of lust and fire.

"I´ll be your private dancer tonight, monsieur", she sang as she offered her hand to be kissed. "you choose my name…"

That touch. That simple touch of her hand lighted him.

"Ivy…", he answered.

Minutes later, both disappeared through the dark corridor, Livia leading the way.

It was as Livia closed the door when he heard it again. The same voice, clear and harsh. In his mind. All around the room, echoing his thoughts.

YOURS, the voice said. YOURS AND NO ONE ELSE´S…

Livia was already curious about the strange man. Curious and excited as she had never been. The wound on his face, his shaved head and the parch covering one of his eyes gave him a horrid, yet exciting appearance. He was unusually skinny, but well built, and not as old as he might look at first glance. But he was mindless of his manners, for he had lit another cigarette without asking for permission to do so. That simple gesture spoke volumes about the man, Livia thought to herself, smiling wickedly. A natural ruler in the game of love and courting. One who always dominated, who tried to have females under his heel. Yes, Livia had seen many men with that nature. They were the most exciting lovers of all.

Strange, it was most strange to be with her in the same room. Watching her moving and looking at him that way. Hungry. She was hungry of him. She had not forgotten him. Not at all.

I TOLD YOU. YOU MUST TAKE HER, NOW!

TEACH THE BITCH SHE CANNOT BE WITH ANYONE ELSE.

TEACH HER WHAT HAPPENS IF SHE DARES TO LOOK TO ANOTHER MAN.

SHE BELONGS TO YOU. SHE IS YOUR WIFE.

YOURS.

Livia lowered her gaze, to see what that man had inside his trousers. Oh, that was good. She wondered how he would like to do it. Slowly? She almost laughed. No, that was most inaccurate. Obedient, passive and compliant. That was easy. But perhaps she could play a little. That excited her too. Moving cat like, her red satin dress floating around her features, Livia gracefully took the empty glass of whisky from his hands and filled it again. The man smiled, pleased at the yielding gesture.

"Who am I?", he suddenly asked.

Livia smiled, naughtily.

"My… master?", she tried, and found it was the right answer. The one she had guessed.

"Good", he replied, lifting the lighted cigarette to her red rouged lips. Livia took a puff of it, "and who are you, Ivy? Why am I here?"

"You command, I obey", was her answer, "I´ve been a very naughty girl. You must punish me"

"Yes, I must punish you, I´ll punish you until you writhe in pain", he repeated, "you flew away. Now you´ll come to me, for you are mine…"

MINE, the voice echoed.

MINE AND NO ONE ELSE´S. MINE OR DEAD.

"No lovers for you then. You´ll stay with me and you´ll have to behave.

"And if I don´t?"

"If you don´t", he threatened her, "you know what will happen, Ivy. I´ll lock you in a room naked, and I´ll visit you, three or four times a day…

"But you will be too tired… what if you only manage once?"

"I´ll send my servants standing for me."

Livia acted falsely surprised and innocently she blinked her blue glassy eyes.

"But you will!"

The man nodded.

"How many?", she asked then, a poisoning voice as her hand travelled to find the man´s belt.

"Three or four"

"I am not like that, master"

"You´ll be forced", he announced, cruelly

"Against my will?", Livia insisted

"Yes…"

That was a whisper. A wicked whisper from the voice.

"With you there? I´ll start to scream…"

"But no use.

"You´d like that… wouldn´t you?"

* TWIGHLIGHT. LE MIRAGE SCHOOL OF PERFORMING ARTS.*

Duncan Morgan had had no time to even pass by his small apartment near the Garnier Opera House. The day had been busy, as always, for a physician in a theatre had always something to do. That day he had cured a bruising, checked a sprained ankle and visited Mademoiselle Guidicelli in her apartments. Now he was in the habson cab sent from Le Mirage, the Arts school he had heard about so much during the last week. Quickly, as the carriage travelled all the way to La Madeleine District, he read again the note Monsieur Firmin had sent him so urgently. He sighed. It appeared the school instructor had had a fainting episode, she had remained unconscious for five hours already, and Le Mirage was full of concern for the lady called Madame Ivy. His doctor´s mind examined the situation quickly, trying to guess a reason. He had treated cases of food disorder previously, they were very common among ballerinas and chorus girls, always worried about their figure, or not always able to feed properly because their lack of money.

Duncan sighed and nodded his head as the coach crossed Le Mirage iron gates. This did not seem to be the case, the lady was of a worthy origin, she had been a famous star, he was told. Duncan realised he was anxious to know the details.

A young fair- haired lady was already waiting for him at the front door, and she urged him inside, leading the physician upstairs to a huge room. Duncan knocked on the door and, almost immediately, Maestro Batistelli welcomed him inside. His face was an open book of concern and worry. Duncan gave it a quick thought. Rumours in the Opera flied, and rumours said the Italian conductor had been involved with the Opera diva in the past, though it was a fact she was now engaged to Signor Ubaldo Piangi. He had noted the conductor silent and absent minded, even sad, he would say, for some days, but magically, the moment Le Mirage was first mentioned in the Opera two weeks ago, Batistelli´s mood changed.

Duncan simply took a mental note of it as he was welcomed inside by the Opera conductor.

"_What happened?__"_, he asked.

"_Madame Ivy fainted during the audition late this morning__"__, _the conductor replied, _"can you…?"_ at this point Tony´s voice lowered, _"__could you examine her?"_

The physician sighed. There was a name for what Batistelli was describing.

Amnesia.

"_If I may ask, Maestro__…__ how long have you known her?__"_

Tony sighed. How could he begin explaining?

"_Madame Ivy saw me performing in Spain long ago__"_, he explained,_"__and when she found out I had accepted the position of conductor at the Opera Garnier, she wrote me a letter inviting me to meet her students today. She fainted in my arms, monsieur Morgan__"__, _he finished, _"__it is my duty as a gentleman and as her friend to see to it you examine her__…"_

Duncan stayed silent for a brief moment, simply analising the conductor´s words_. _He nodded in understanding, and approached the bed where a beautiful red haired lady lied. Her pulse was correct, and she breathed regularly. He checked her temperature, seeing no external sight of shock. But her fingers were icy cold, and _that_ was a true sign of alarm.

"_Have you tried to wake her up?"_, he asked the conductor in a whisper.

Tony nodded his head.

"_We should, Maestro", _Duncan continued, his face showing serious concern, _"Five hours is too much time for a person to be unconscious. There can be… consequences…"_

"_What do you mean with that?"_

"_**Do not open your eyes, lvy. Do not wake up. Stay asleep, for here, in your dreams, you won 't be hurt anymore. **_**..",** she could still hear the voice in her mind, thought the music had stopped, the soft lady's voice spoke clear, insistent. Commanding. _**"Keep on sleeping",**_she said, _**"it's cold and dark outside"**_Slowly the voice of her dreams became more musical, more and more addictive, until its sounds wrapped her consciousness.

_**"**__**…There's no use in remembering... Do forget, lvy**__..."…_

…

"_Come to class", _Ivy commanded Pierre, still so very annoyed.

But the boy didn't move. He stood still, his fists clutched, looking furiously at his teacher. Louis couldn't simply believe what he was witnessing!

"_I said come to class!", _she repeated, rising her voice. After a second, she insisted, _"don't try my patience, Pierre! Go inside at once or else...!"_, she cut herself sharply. It was only then when the student responded.

" _Or else what? What are you going to do to me? I don'__t care a shit what you do!"_, he shouted, almost out of control, _" Aren't you a genius, the almighty perfect Madame Ivy who never does anything wrong? So then play this stupid nocturne yourself! "_

"_WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, MONSIEUR PASSARINO?"_, Ivy roared, her face crimson, _"I won't tolerate this behaviour in *my* school!"_

"_Madame he'__s just..." _Louis warned him as he saw their teacher's face changing. He had to do something! _"Pierre, stop it!"_

But Pierre didn't hear. Now that he had started, he couldn't stop...

"_You have no right to treat me like that, Madame!", _Pierre was almost shouting at the top of his trembling voice, _"I...it was just a delay, it is only a piece of paper! I have tried my best to please you for three years and never, never have I received a word of pleasure in return!"_, he laughed dryly at his own words, _"You know what? Maybe you should hire a teacher yourself, to teach you how love the rest of the world!"_

For the first time in all her teaching career, Ivy Depreaux felt speechless in front of a student. She felt the rage coming upon her features, quicker that what she could almost realise... and she didn't control herself, and smacked Pierre as hard as she could manage before she could even know what she was doing!

Only when the poor boy's face drained in shock, his eyes full of tears staring at her teacher , did Ivy realise *what* she had just done. Pierre's blue eyes told her all the things she didn't want to hear that instant. Now the corridor was full of people, students and teachers had come out from the different classes upon hearing the quarrel. And she felt each one of them looked at her accusingly, from the horrified ballet girls to an open mouthed Louis... blaming her... reproachful glances to a school director who had lost her nerves...

A sob escaped Ivy's lips as she scarcely tried to whisper a request for forgiveness to Pierre. Because it was not only his student she was addressing to, but the whole school.

"_Get out!", _she cried, _"Get out of my sight, all of you!"_

More than anything she had wanted to be left alone that instant; she didn't like people see her crying. For she had never cried in front of her students. And that was her mistake. To pretend that she could do it when she truly couldn't. Pierre was right. Madame Depreaux could *not* love. She had been led to do it. She had no strength left… after all she had tried for three years… but then, she was inspired. Now she was sad. And tired.

Now she felt nothing but the cold darkness around her. Grasping her body. Biting her mind. Painting a thousand shadows on her eyes. But Ivy could still hear a piano hidden within those shadows.

IVY.

Someone playing an untitled melody. Where did the melody come from? Who was playing?

IVY. PLEASE.

She wanted the music to stop! She wanted to be left alone! But there was a voice in her mind, calling her. Waiting. But it was not her voice; it was someone else's. A voice she had heard once.

…IVY…

"_Can you hear my voice? It´s me…"_

Moving quietly, Tony approached the bed where Ivy lied and listened in silence as Ivy stirred and spoke in her dreams. The Opera physician had applied a bit of alcohol below her nose, with the hope of making her finally react. He spoke to her, softly, hiding the tone of eagerness in his voice.

"_Ivy…Ivy, can you hear me? It´s me…"_

As the minutes passed, the feeling of seeing her that way, just lying asleep, almost ate him away, and what it started as uneasiness soon became concern, then worry and finally true alarm.

But in the end she moved. She stirred in her sleep.

And Tony´s heart jumped in happiness and relief.

"_Ivy.. stay with me, open your eyes... Ivy..."_

Although she struggled hard to do so, Ivy couldn't open her eyes. But she fought to, breathing deep. And slowly she managed to move in her chair, eyes still wide shut and head spinning. She could feel she was not alone, but hardly knew her own way. She finally rubbed her eyes and only then did she realise she had been crying. At first, he had not dared touch her. But when she did not immediately reply, he gently reached over and touched her arm.

_"Ivy,"_ he repeated, shaking her lightly in an attempt to get her attention.

She heard, in the far distance, a gentle voice whispering her name. The music playing a painful nocturne of her dreams melted with that voice whispering her name… It was as if her whole body were empty, suspended in the middle of nowhere, still in the darkness… still in that corridor, lost and frightened. There. Where no help was coming. She had been defeated by her own weak body. Only longing to rest… to have an endless state of sleep

…Don't wake me up, please. I don't want to wake up…

Slowly, the woman opened her blue glassy eyes. She couldn't move a single muscle, her whole body was absolutely paralised, weighing tons. She could feel someone was holding her. She loved being there like that. She felt safe, warm, though she did not recognise those dark eyes looking at her, full of concern and something else. Something she felt she had yearned to feel. She liked those eyes looking at her; they were dark, and sparkled with a strange, great light. She felt sleepy again. She was so tired, so exhausted to remember who she had been. ..! She hardly remembered her own name.

Ivy?

Was that her name? She stared at the man. Yes. She remembered having heard that name pronounced by his lips. And, at one time, she remembered, she had shyly loved the way it sounded.

Her head ached terribly when she tried to remember this man' s name. She raised her right hand to her temples, as the striking pain broke into her consciousness.

_"Who... who are you... _?", Ivy asked, her voice no more than a whisper, _"where am I?" _

Tony observed Ivy's struggle to regain consciousness; it seemed as though her mind fought to hold onto whatever bliss might be contained in her dreams. It was an escape, he knew, from her confrontation with the Baron and Tony longed to show her that she had no need to flee this way when life became too difficult; that she could trust him.

Now that she had awoken somewhat, he gently helped her sit on the huge bed, making certain that she would not collapse again and knelt beside her. Taking up the glass of water Ayleen had left on the bed table minutes ago, he dipped the tip of a linen napkin in the cool beverage and pressed the material against Ivy's forehead.

_"It's me, Ivy. Tony. _" He softly addressed her question knowing that she was still confused. _"You had an... _" the conductor searched for a word adequate enough to describe her situation, _"attack. Right after the Baron left. _" He did not wish to upset her by causing her to remember the conversation with her so called husband, but he realized that he needed the truth to ground her and bring her back to reality. _"We are in your school, Le Mirage, _" he added. _"You kindly invited me to an audition with your students, we shared music and dance… a waltz… Do you remember?",_he asked quietly before nodding at the worried girl who stood beside them. Tony´s dark eyes remained fixed upon her pale face.

Ivy waited, silent. She did not want to speak. A school? Had she ever owned a school, or gone to one? Every time she closed her eyes, her mind was filled with strange images, images from her past, she believed. First, there had been rain and clouds, and endless hours waiting for something, or someone, she did not remember at all. Then, something had happened, and she had made the rain in her life stop. These images seemed so far away, so further in time, that they made her head spin furiously.

Ivy shivered when she felt the icy contact of the glass on her skin, but the shooting pounding of her forehead slightly weakened. She breathed deeply, her head still spinning round and round in an endless frantic spiral. She looked around her, wearily. The man with the tender voice, the one called Tony had just said they were in a... a school? Well, that was anyway a lovely place to be, she decided, light and warm. If it were not for that unbearable headache which was almost driving her mad!

_"I...l...I have a terrible headache...and tired, I feel so tired!" _

She could hardly speak, and suddenly felt truly tired, and cold too. She closed her eyes in instant as she heard in the distance the dark eyed man's voice, the one called Tony, telling her they had been performing together. She just remembered a beautiful music, and then… then everything had faded to black. What was that she was suffering from? Was she ill? Her head ached terribly, drums were echoing all around her mind. He had mentioned she had to see a doctor, but she did not know what she needed. She just wanted to sleep.

It was desperating. Every time she opened her eyes she saw something new. But nothing she remembered! Nothing!

Only faces. She could see faces looking at her. There was a young blonde haired girl beside her bed, a lovely tiny mademoiselle she knew she had seen somewhere in her past. She was worried about her, her brown eyes told her so. Ivy tried, but she did not remember the girl ' s name. And she knew she had met that girl... but when? How? The drums in her head, as fast as wild horses, entered her mind again, bringing back names and faces without any apparent connection...

_"I don't remember!", _Ivy cried, _"I don't know what I'm doing here!", _she hugged the man, the one called Tony. Tightly, so tight that she thought they could melt, as her tears came out. _"Please, help me sleep... _", her voice weakened as she mouthed the words aloud and the tears slowly stopped, " _I want to sleep, just help me sleep... _"

Duncan listened intently, recognizing the trauma the lady had suffered, and deducing the confusion it was causing. She needed to calm down, and he quickly made his way to the table near the window, where he had left his suitcase. He returned with a small bottle of laudanum, and a spoon. He wanted to ease her obvious pain, not reduce her to unconsciousness.

_"Here, Madame, please, take this, _" he helped her to take a tablespoon of the powerful sedative.

Her arms still gripped him firmly as the conductor carefully guided Ivy to her feet. He kept one arm securely about her waist, lest she fall, and the other reached up to caress her pale cheek, hoping that this touch might assist her, if only in a small way, in regaining a sense of reality. She was weary; so weary but he did not want her to sleep, for it seemed that her dreams took her even farther from reality; from him. Tony gave the lady a compassionate smile and spoke in a quiet tone.

"_You will be alright in a moment"_, he sought to reassure her. Tony was uncertain how much more of the Baron's visit, if any, he should mention and decided to leave that discussion for another time, when she was stronger. _"Ivy, if you will allow me?"_,reaching his hands for her, he questioned her with dark eyes. He did not know she remembered him yet… if not could she trust him with her safety? He watched her carefully to see if there was any acknowledgement in her features. _"There was a recital and you had… fallen asleep there…_"

The more he recounted what had earlier happened to her, the more Tony wondered if they should make her remember… not now, he thought. He needed to get her settled and make her feel safe and sound. He longed to ask if she remembered him, but was hesitant to do so directly, for he saw how upset she already was and did not wish to add to that by trying to force her to recall the events he had just spoken of. Instead, he glanced down at her and smiled gently.

Duncan observed the scene from a distance, alert but hesitant to break the communication between them. It was obvious the Maestro´s presence had taken Madame Ivy out of her trauma. She felt comfortable with him, and little by little her cheeks were recovering their colour.

"_Madame, do you feel well enough to go downstairs and have a __stroll through the gardens?", _he enquired softly.

Tony looked up at the physician, relieved that he had made that suggestion. There was nothing he wanted more than to spend a time alone with her Maid in the Water.

"_Do you trust me, Ivy?"_Tony did not realize he had let his best smile shine on his face. He laughed lightly when he saw her nodding,_ "Monsieur Morgan is right, perhaps if you are around familiar surroundings we will get part of your memory back. _"

'Even a slight portion', he thought. He needed to help Ivy, in any possible way. His earlier plans of making them dinner still held, if she would have him, but instead of cooking the meal at his apartment, he would do so in her school.

If only…

If only she would trust him…

Moving quietly, Ivy gathered all the strength she had left to force her legs stand up, helped by this dark eyed man who had never left her since she remembered waking up. The laudanum was working fast, and she felt all her muscles relaxing. It was comfortable to be that way, yes. As long as she did not feel alone anymore.

Ivy wearily heard him speaking to a young mademoiselle, saying it was better if he, and no other, escorted her to the gardens. Perhaps it was the laudanum she had been led to drink by the other gentleman; or maybe it was that she felt too exhausted to protest. ...but the truth was that she answered nothing... Ivy would follow him wherever he decided to take her, yes. Only one thing was clear in the darkness of her mind: if there was nothing she could remember now, maybe he... maybe that way she could remember.

Or not.

Placing an arm around her shoulder, Tony carefully guided Ivy outside, remaining silent until he spotted one of the benches in the garden.

_"This will do fine,"_ he commented, leading her to the marble seat and being certain she sat safely upon the bench, sat down beside her, still holding her hand.

Only when the soft light of the growing afternoon stroke her eyes, Ivy began recovering her conscience. Even when it was more than evident she could not manage on her own, she had been tempted to ask Tony to leave her when they got outside. But she found she needed his presence. He gave her peace.

"_Please, stay...Tony…"_, she managed to whisper, _"I just don't want to be alone…"_

It was true. It was indeed the truest thing Ivy had ever dared to speak aloud to anyone.

Tony was silent for several moments; simply holding Ivy in tender arms. He had come to care deeply for her in the short time they had known one another. He admired her strength and courage, so he could well imagine the depth of the emotional turmoil which had nearly driven her to tears. He kept one arm protectively about her shoulder, while his other hand reached up and gently wiped away one lone tear which had escaped from her eyes.

_"Believe it or not, Ivy,"_ he finally spoke softly, _"I know how you feel…"_

"_You do?"_, she blinked her eyes, confused. There was something about this man… about his eyes, the way he looked at her. _"What do you know about me?"_

Tony took her delicate hand and gazed at the woman before him. He seemed to understand her confusion although he could not imagine exact1y what she must be fee1ing; how lost she seemed.

_"We have only known each other for a short period of time, _", he began, hoping to ease a bit of her uncertainty by explaining the relationship to her. _"1 myself have only been in Paris for only two months, having come from Barcelona. I received a letter from you asking if I would consider visiting your school, Le Mirage. Apparently, you had heard me play while in Barcelona and my music, I am pleased and deeply humbled to say, touched you deeply. I replied to your note and invited you to come to the orchestra pit some evening, which you did. We had a delightful walk afterwards and I must admit that __I_ _was enchanted with you from the moment we first met.."_

He smiled over at her, wondering if anything he said so far had stirred any memory.

Ivy´s mind twirled around as she heard Tony recalling how they had first met… a stroll along the river Seine, she remembered, the two of them walking a park borderline by night. Yes, that was now very clear in her mind. She had been so comfortable, so at ease outside that night... Ivy tried hard, she tried to blow the shadows of her mind and remember. She knew, she knew his full name, she had read it somewhere and had secretly wished to meet him in person, for he had brought back something she believed she should never have: peace of mind. Rest. Sleep without any more nightmares.

Then she remembered. Antonius Batistelli. Yes. He was. ..he was that man whose music she had wanted to dance for. Unknowingly, she tried to keep the name in her weary mind. She had seen him play in Barcelona...when she was young, so very young, when she still wanted to dance, she recalled, The name brought another memory to her mind, and Ivy tried to keep it while she heard him talk to her. He had said his music had moved her. Yes. It did. An untitled melody had made her cry .She would never be a ballerina, she had thought. But she had become one of them. Eight shows a week, two of them matinees. ..she had learnt the lines, sung the songs, danced the steps, she had written the music. ..And then, it had come: _Le Mirage. _Her school; her dream. ..and everything she had done in her 1ife had been justified. Gone. And forgotten. But not forgiven. Ivy closed her eyes. No, she did NOT want to remember *that* .A frightening image of herself full of hate and rage, slapping someone, a young blue eyed boy who had told her she was not prepared for loving anyone at all. Rejected. Alone. Unable to love.

My heart has always been a lonely hunter. ..whenever love tried to welcome me…

...why then do you trust him, Ivy?

"_Barcelona…"_, she said all of a sudden, _"I heard you play there, a long time ago. You… I…what is it that I am feeling for you?"_, she asked him, _"Why are you so gentle and tender to me?"_Tony was still uncertain if he should mention any word of Ivy's 'husband' and purposely avoided telling her what had happened in the school. For now, he would concentrate in good news alone.

"_You are a true lady, in every sense of the word; Ivy. _" He took up her hand once more. _'That is part of the reason why I am, as you say, so gentle with you. I sense that you are strong, but I also sense that much has been missing from your life and that you, like every one of us, longs for someone to love; someone to lean on. You are vulnerable, yet so trusting. You do not remember much of our relationship right now, yet you still find it in your heart trust me. Ivy, such child-like faith is irresistible to me, as it is to most men."_

Tony paused for a moment, his thoughts whir1ing around inside of his mind. His greatest fear was that her memory might never return, but if it did not, they would build again upon this relationship and he would do everything in his power to help her find a cure for this 'sickness' once and for all.

"_What do you feel for me, you ask,"_ he began again, _"That is something only you can decide and you will, when you are better. I can only hope and pray that you feel for me as I do for you. It has been such a short time, Ivy and yet I feel as though I've known you forever"_ Carefully, he lifted her chin with the touch of his fingertip and made her look into his eyes. _"Why am I so gentle? _He softly repeated the question and turned on his hair to stare into her lovely eyes. _"because I love you…"_

Glancing down into her uplifted face, he placed a gentle almost chaste kiss upon her lips. Her lips which tasted of the flowers which surrounded them.

Whatever misgivings she might have had that instant, they didn´t show. Perhaps because there were no doubts at all. It has been almost natural, nothing strained or forced in that kiss; and unexpected too. Yes, most unexpected. But, for a very first time, Ivy did not ponder or hesitate. She simply raised her hand upon his cheek, and caressed him softly, drowning inside the brightness of his eyes. And any half-thought that it was someone different she was kissing vanished, it went nowhere to be found and died. She wanted to ask him why he had done it, why he had done what he did, kissing her lips so gently. But she didn´t. She simply smiled, so sweetly and instinctively, and kissed him back tenderly. This was not kissing a stranger, or even a near-stranger. Every touch of her lips on his sent bolts of fearful but sweet excitement zinging through her nerves…

Tony found himself wondering what she would feel when their lips met. Did she understand why he had been compelled to touch her so? Had she realized how close he felt to her in the short time of their acquaintance? If she did not, he would tell her; tell her what she had come to mean to him.

However, before he could utter a sound, she returned his gesture of friendship. As their lips greeted one another for the second time, Tony's left hand lifted upward to cradle the back of her neck, while his other arm encircled her waist and pulled her body closer. What had begun as friendship was taking on a meaning of its own, for he sensed the emotions which swept over the lovely woman in his arms even as the blood began to stir in his veins.

There was nothing more he wished in that moment when their kiss ended, than to take her up in his arms again, yet Tony forced himself to take a step back from her and gaze down into her eyes. She had just promised, mere moments ago, to trust him. He vowed to be worthy of that trust and he knew she was feeling vulnerable. He would not take advantage of her frailty.

_"Ivy,"_ he spoke softly, running the tip of one finger along the side of her jaw_. "We are so alike; you and I. We share many of the same dreams and the same fears. We understand each other in a way that is rare for most people.__What we have is precious and I do not want to do anything that might jeopardize that relationship.__There is nothing more in this world that I wish to be than your friend."_ He paused a moment before continuing_, "But somehow... somehow that does not seem to be enough anymore._

_Ivy,"_ he took one of her hands in his and held it tenderly. _"I would be honoured if you would allow me to court you. __I do not want to rush you and I will understand if you must refuse me, however I must be honest with you in regards to my feelings. No matter what you decide, and you do not have to give me your answer this day, I will always be your friend."_

There was so much more that he wanted to share with her, yet he did not wish to overwhelm her with the intensity of his feelings. It was enough, for now, that she was his friend and perhaps...just perhaps something more.

Perhaps she would be His Maid in the Water.

"How many?", she asked then, a poisoning voice as her hand travelled to find the man´s belt.

"Three or four"

"I am not like that, master"

"You´ll be forced", he announced, cruelly

"Against my will?", Livia insisted

"Yes…"

That was a whisper. A wicked whisper from the voice.

"With you there? I´ll start to scream…"

"But no use.

"You´d like that… wouldn´t you?"

The question stuck him, it hit him hard. Her face, that face smiling wickedly… it sent shivers of awe all through his body. Ivy, *HIS* Ivy had thought he would like sharing her with another…

He heard the voice laughing madly, in his mind…

YES!, it cried out, I TOLD YOU SHE WAS A BITCH!

No.

REALLY? NOT A BITCH?, the voice mocked, AND WHAT DO YOU CALL THAT THEN, YOU FOOL?

WHAT?

Livia´s hand travelled to unbutton his shirt and then his trousers, as she claimed possession of what it was inside, waiting to be released… she was not unfamiliar with unusual love making practises, and this man wanted something urgent, harsh and frantic… so he would have it, as long as he had money to pay, and he had. He had to be acceptably moneyed, if he could afford three dates in advance, and the luxurious tip he had just left at the entrance. Noblemen, she loved them… they could be the most vicious, the most addictive ones and they could be so easily manipulated… Livia would tame him under her whip, playing dominance games… if he wanted her to be so, she would be that woman he was obsessed by, that Ivy…

He gasped as the woman´s lips travelled down, huskily, for a different kind of kiss, and he grabbed her hair, from the knot, untiding it. Yeah, that was good, Ivy, so very good! Don´t stop! Do not dare stop!

Livia protested, yawning as he pulled her hair. But the pain was nice, it was nice. She controlled him now…

THE BITCH IS AN EXPERT, YOU IDIOT! The voice spoke again, in his head, in his mind.

Stop!

HOW MANY TIMES HAD SHE DONE SOMETHING LIKE THIS?

Stop! Shut up!

HOW MANY TIMES, ADRIAN?

HOW MANY?

A wicked laughter brushed his thoughts, drowning them into poisonous darkness. The room echoed, it spinned around in a frantic, evil dance, as he grabbed Livia´s hair tighter and put her on his hands, against the bureau. A quick and harsh tug, and the satin red dress fell on the floor in two shreds, and Livia was hit against the full size mirror…

'Is THAT what you wanted Ivy?', Adrian shouted, 'is THIS what you did with all your lovers?'

Livia laughed, wickedly.

'They did it better!', she teased, dangerously, 'much better than you…!"

BARCELONA.

SEVILLE.

THAT DRESSING ROOM IN ENGLAND, the voice scoffed at him, evil grins from the other side of the mirror.

AND PARIS.

YOU SAW THOSE MEN…

No! She is mine! Mine and no one else´s!

…YOU´RE JUST ONE MORE…

It was then when Livia really panicked, for the first time in her life. When the fingers travelled around her neck. And they tightened, squeezed, pressed. She fought to break loose, but the pain blinded her. She could not breath…

You are mine!

Mine!

MINE…!

The woman fought no more, falling on the floor, like a broken porcelain doll.

Her blue glassy eyes wide opened.

Empty.

Adrian did not realised, at first, what he had done.

But the woman was dead.

Dead.

And the voice laughed its highest…

-END OF CHAPTER TWELVE- (more soon)


End file.
